Territorial Conflicts in World Society: Modern Systems Theory, International Relations and Conflict Studies (New International Relations)

Territorial Conflicts in World Society This unique collection of thought-provoking contributions convincingly demonstrates the relevance and applicability of modern systems theory to the study of enduring key issues in international relations theory. The volume should be particularly rewarding to students and scholars seeking a broad sociological basis for the study of power and conflict in an increasingly complex world society. Yosef Lapid, New Mexico State University, USA This innovative collection offers an important and stimulating contribution, both in terms of much needed theoretical development and the discussion of key issues to contemporary conflict studies. Oliver P.Richmond, University of St. Andrews, UK

By bringing into dialogue modern systems theory and International Relations, this text provides theoretically innovative and empirically rich perspectives on conflicts in world society. This collection contrasts Niklas Luhmann’s theory of world society in modern systems theory with more classical approaches to the study of conflicts in IR, offering a fresh perspective on territorial conflicts in international relations. The book includes chapters on key issues such as: conflicts and human rights; conflicts in the Middle East and subSaharan Africa; war and violence; Greek-Turkish relations; conflict theory; the role of states in world societal conflicts; legal territorial disputes in Australia; hegemony and conflict in global law and conflict management after 9/11. While all contributions draw from the theory of world society in modern systems theory, the authors to this volume offer rich multidisciplinary perspectives which bring in concepts from IR, peace and conflict studies, sociology, law and philosophy. This volume will appeal to International Relations specialists, peace and conflict researchers and sociologists. Stephan Stetter is Lecturer in Political Science and International Relations at Bielefeld University, Germany.

The New International Relations Series editors: Richard Little, Iver B.Neumann and Jutta Weldes Edited by Richard Little, University of Bristol, Iver B.Neumann, Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI), Norway and Jutta Weldes, University of Bristol.

The field of international relations has changed dramatically in recent years. This new series will cover the major issues that have emerged and reflect the latest academic thinking in this particular dynamic area. International Law, Rights and Politics Developments in Eastern Europe and the CIS Rein Mullerson The Logic of Internationalism Coercion and accommodation Kjell Goldmann Russia and the Idea of Europe A study in identity and international relations Iver B.Neumann The Future of International Relations Masters in the making? Edited by Iver B.Neumann and Ole Wœver Constructing the World Polity Essays on international institutionalization John Gerard Ruggie Realism in International Relations and International Political Economy The continuing story of a death foretold Stefano Guzzini International Relations, Political Theory and the Problem of Order Beyond international relations theory? N.J.Rengger

War, Peace and World Orders in European History Edited by Anja V.Hartmann and Beatrice Heuser European Integration and National Identity The challenge of the Nordic states Edited by Lene Hansen and Ole Wœver Shadow Globalization, Ethnic Conflicts and New Wars A political economy of intra-state war Dietrich Jung Contemporary Security Analysis and Copenhagen Peace Research Edited by Stefano Guzzini and Dietrich Jung Observing International Relations Niklas Luhmann and world politics Edited by Mathias Albert and Lena Hilkermeier Does China Matter? A Reassessment Essays in memory of Gerald Segal Edited by Barry Buzan and Rosemary Foot European Approaches to International Relations Theory A house with many mansions Jörg Friedrichs The Post-Cold War International System strategies, institutions and reflexivity Ewan Harrison States of Political Discourse Words, regimes, seditions Cost as M.Constantinou The Politics of Regional Identity Meddling with the Mediterranean Michelle Pace The Power of International Theory Reforging the link to foreign policy-making through scientific enquiry Fred Chernoff Africa and the North Between globalization and marginalization Edited by Ulf Engel and Gorm Rye Olsen

Communitarian International Relations The epistemic foundations of international relations Emanuel Adler Human Rights and World Trade Hunger in international society Ana Gonzalez-Pelaez Liberalism and War The victors and the vanquished Andrew Williams Constructivism and International Relations Alexander Wendt and his critics Edited by Stefano Guzzini and Anna Leander Security as Practice Discourse analysis and the Bosnian War Lene Hansen The Politics of Insecurity Fear, migration and asylum in the EU Jef Huysmans State Sovereignty and Intervention A discourse analysis of interventionary and non-interventionary practices in Kosovo and Algeria Helle Malmvig Culture and Security Symbolic power and the politics of international security Michael Williams Hegemony & History Adam Watson Territorial Conflicts in World Society Modern systems theory, international relations and conflict studies Edited by Stephan Stetter

Territorial Conflicts in World Society Modern systems theory, international relations and conflict studies

Edited by Stephan Stetter

LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” © 2007 Stephan Stetter, selection and editorial matter; the contributors, their chapters All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Territorial conflicts in world society: modern systems theory, international relations and conflict studies/edited by Stephan Stetter. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13:978-0-415-41674-0 (hardback: alk. paper) 1. Conflict management. 2. Social systems. 3. International relations. I. Stetter, Stephan, 1972– JZ6368.T47 2007 327.1’17–dc22

ISBN 0-203-96284-2 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN13:978-0-415-41674-0 (hbk) ISBN13:978-0-203-96284-8 (ebk)

Contents Notes on contributors

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Series editor’s preface

xi

Preface

1 Introduction: Points of encounter STEPHAN STETTER PART I Points of observation: Systems theory, IR and the study of conflicts in world society 2 Debordering by human rights: The challenge of postterritorial conflicts in world society THORSTEN BONACKER 3 Regions of conflict in world society: The place of the Middle East and SubSaharan Africa STEPHAN STETTER 4 Theories of world society and war: Luhmann and the alternatives KLAUS SCHLICHTE 5 The autopoiesis of conflict transformation: An example of a ‘butterfly effect’ in Greek-Turkish relations EUGENIA VATHAKOU PART II Points of contact: Sociological, legal and philosophical perspectives on systems theory, IR and conflicts in world society 6 Contradiction, conflict and borders HEINZ MESSMER 7 Addresses in world societal conflicts: A systems theoretical contribution to the theory of the state in International Relations WERNER SCHIRMER 8 Conflicts of laws: Comparing autochthonous legal cultures ALAIN POTTAGE 9 ‘Just peace’ revisited: international law in the era of asymmetry ACHILLES SKORDAS

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1 17

19

33

48 62

88

90 111

132 149

10 The irony of terror: the morality-sensitive nerve in the criticism of violence GERTRUD BRÜCHER 11 Conclusion: Points of departure MATHIAS ALBERT

172 188

Bibliography

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Index

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Contributors Mathias Albert is Professor of Political Science at Bielefeld University and Codirector of the Institute for World Society Studies. His main research interests are in the fields of world society and international relations theory. Thorsten Bonacker is Junior Professor at the Center of Conflict Studies, University of Marburg. His research interests are sociological and political theory, conflict studies and macrosociology, especially the sociology of world society. Gertrud Brücher is Senior Lecturer at the Institute for Peace and Democracy at the University of Hagen. She has written about peace-theory, human rights from a systems theoretical perspective and postmodern terrorism. Heinz Messmer is Senior Lecturer at the Faculty of Pedagogy at the University of Bielefeld. He has written about informal interventions within the juvenile criminal justice system, especially mediation and has developed a theory aimed at the identification of the elementary forms in social conflict. Alain Pottage is Reader in Law at the London School of Economics and Political Science. His research focuses on the history and theory of ownership institutions. Werner Schirmer is Lecturer at the Department of Sociology at the LudwigMaximilians-University of Munich. His research interests are theory of society, political sociology and International Relations theory. Klaus Schlichte is Senior Lecturer and director of the Younger Scholar Group (Nachwuchsgruppe) ‘Micropolitics of Armed Groups’ at the Institute for Social Sciences at the Humboldt-University of Berlin. He has published widely on the sociology of war, the theory and history of international relations and the dynamics of state domination; his research has been conducted in East and West Africa as well as in the former Yugoslavia. Achilles Skordas is Reader in Law at the School of Law at the University of Bristol. He has written on public international law and migration law, and his current research focuses on international law and power, European constitutionalism and regime theory. Stephan Stetter is Lecturer in Political Science and International Relations at the Faculty of Sociology at Bielefeld University. His main research interests are systems theory and international relations theory, Middle East politics, and European integration studies. Eugenia Vathakou is responsible for the department of planning and networking of European Perspective—Development and Education Centre, a Greek development NGO active in the Balkans, in Africa, Latin America and Asia. She holds a PhD. in International Conflict Analysis from the University of Kent at Canterbury. Her research interests are the dynamics of crises and peace processes, the role of news media and civil society in these phenomena, the debate between conflict transformation and conflict resolution and the role of the system of social science in social transformation.

Series editor’s preface This is the second book in this series that draws specifically on the work of the German social theorist Niklas Luhmann. Although still an unfamiliar name in the largely Anglophone world of international relations theory, there are a growing number of scholars in Europe who are focusing on Luhmann’s work and are endeavouring to demonstrate the relevance of his ideas for the study of international relations. From one perspective this is not a difficult task because Luhmann argues that the only way to develop social theory is to start from the assumption that we all operate within a world society. Unlike most traditional social theorists, therefore, Luhmann takes it for granted that it is essential when developing social theory to start from a global perspective. Moreover, he also presupposes that the emergence of world society is not a recent phenomenon but can be extended back for five hundred years to the point when contact was established between the eastern and western hemispheres. When Luhmann refers to world society, however, he does not mean an amalgam of the established but increasingly interdependent societies that exist across the globe. On the contrary, he wishes to break free from the traditional sociological assumption that society is a territorially bounded unit that is held together by common rules and values. To the extent that social theory has impinged on the study of international relations, it is this traditional notion of society that has invariably been called upon. English school theorists, for example, are interested in the way that states are constrained by the existence of common rules and values within international society and they are also increasingly conscious of common rules and values that impinge on individuals within an emerging world society. The problem with these ideas, from Luhmann’s perspective is that they are not pulled together by an overarching social theory. But an even bigger problem with the English school approach is the way that the anomic features of international relations are relegated to an international system. Such a concept is deeply problematic for Luhmann because, as he sees it, there are no features that are external to world society and that, as a consequence, have to be accounted for outside of social theory. Although Luhmann’s emphasis on world society obviously seems to provide a point of contact with international relations theory, the task of building bridges is not straightforward. For most mainstream thinkers in international relations, Luhmann’s social theory is essentially alien to their fundamental approach to the subject because they assume that international actors provide the main point of reference. So an international system is identified in terms of the relations that form between states or, increasingly, non-state actors. But this is not how Luhmann thinks about world society. His focus is not on the common rules and values that bind actors together. For Luhmann, world society is constituted by a wide array of functionally differentiated systems that include not just politics and economics, but science, health, law, education, etcetera. However, the focus is not on politicians, lawyers or teachers but on the way that political, legal and

educational communication ensures that these systems are reproduced. They are, in other words, autopoeitic or self-reproducing systems that operate on the basis of their own distinctive structural logic. For anyone who is not versed in Luhmann’s thinking, however, it is by no means obvious what implications flow from this theoretical position. One of the substantial benefits of this book, therefore, is its focus on territorial conflicts, an issue that is of central importance for an international relations audience. By taking a familiar issue, it becomes much easier to assess the strengths and weaknesses of Luhmann’s approach from an international relations perspective. One of the obvious strengths is that the approach does not view conflict as an abnormal feature of world society, on the one hand, or assume that common values are needed to prevent conflict, on the other. But an equally obvious weakness of Luhmann’s approach is that, in practice, the role of conflict has been consistently underplayed. The book, therefore, opens up a two-way street, that reveals the utility of Luhmann’s thinking for understanding a recurrent problem in international relations while at the same time highlighting an important area of investigation for Luhmannian thinkers. Richard Little University of Bristol

Preface The Institute for World Society Studies at the University of Bielefeld, which I joined in November 2002, offered invaluable support in the preparation of this book. Not only is it a stimulating intellectual ‘localization’ for the study of globalization processes and politics in world society, but also offers a unique environment for pursuing interdisciplinary research on International Relations (IR), conflict studies and modern systems theory. In that context—and inspired by the Luhmannian spirit still present in the corridors of Bielefeld University—the idea was born to convene a workshop on IR, territorial conflicts, and modern systems theory. The objective was to discuss in detail how the study of conflicts in IR could profit (or not) from systems theoretical insights— and how modern systems theory could profit (or not) from an intensified dialogue with the way conflicts are studied in IR. Most chapters in this book are revised versions of the original workshop papers. I am grateful indeed that my idea to organize an international workshop on ‘Contradiction! Territorial Conflicts in World Society’ in December 2003 was strongly supported by the Institute for World Society Studies, which offered generous organizational and financial support without which the organization of this workshop would not have been possible. I would like to thank in particular Mathias Albert, Joanna Pfaff-Czarnecka and Rudolf Stichweh, the then-directors of the Institute for World Society Studies, for their ardent support of this workshop. I am also grateful to Joachim Wöll, then-executive director of the Institute for World Society Studies, as well as Volker Verrel and Doris Voss for their organizational support. I would like to thank in particular Martyna Puls, my student assistant, for her enthusiastic and professional contribution to the organization of the workshop. I would like to express my gratitude to Thomas Diez, Joachim Wöll and Oliver P.Richmond, who were discussants at the workshop and provided crucial input for the revised versions of the individual workshop papers. I should mention that the idea to identify points of encounter between International Relations, modern systems theory and conflict studies originated from many fruitful and challenging discussions I had with my colleagues in the project ‘The European Union and Border Conflicts: The Impact of Integration and Association’ (Euborderconf: 5th framework programme of the EU with co-sponsoring from the Brisith Academy). I am hence very grateful to those colleagues and friends from the Euborderconf-Project who participated at the ‘Contradiction!’ workshop in Bielefeld, namely Olga Demetriou, Thomas Diez, Katy Hayward, Michelle Pace, Sergei Prozorov, Bahar Rumelili and Haim Yacobi—not only have they provided critical ‘perturbations’ to the lively discussions at the workshop but they have also shown great imperturbability at our somewhat lengthy search for a cosy restaurant in winterly Bielefeld. I also would like to thank Mathias Albert for reading and commenting on the entire manuscript of this book as well as for his detailed and stimulating comments on it. Many thanks also to the three anonymous referees for their very helpful comments. I am particularly grateful to Richard Little,

series editor of the New International Relations series, for his support of this project, as well as to Heidi Bagtazo, Harriet Brinton and Jason Mitchell from Routledge and Andrew Willis for their professional and enthusiastic work in the preparation of this book. Many thanks go to my friend Tobias Werron for our discussions on world society (in singular) and world cups (in plural). Anna Sigl has been at my side with her love, for which I am most grateful. My interest in world politics and theoretical issues would not have grown, if it was not for the intellectual and emotional seeds planted and nourished by my wonderful family. I hence dedicate this book with love to my parents, Annegret and Franz Stetter, as well as to my grandmother Philippine Läufer. Stephan Stetter Bielefeld and Berlin, February 2007

1 Introduction: Points of encounter Stephan Stetter ‘Jedes ausgesprochene Wort erregt den Gegensinn.’ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in Die Wahlverwandtschaften (Goethe 1999:149) ‘Every word spoken excites its contradiction.’ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in Elective Affinities (Goethe 1994:139)

Observations: modern systems theory, world society and the study of conflicts in International Relations Against the background of the manifold political fractures and tensions in world society, the oracle that in the post-Cold War era human civilization has reached the ‘end of history’ appears today as a rather hasty prediction. Acknowledging the endurance of history and conflict, the discipline of International Relations1 (IR) has engaged in recent years in fascinating discussions of how conflicts in the ‘post-Westphalian order’ can be conceptualized. These discussions have brought up a wealth of empirical and theoretical insights into the main dynamics which structure the prevalence of conflicts in international relations. What is the specific contribution which the theory of world society, as developed in Luhmannian systems theory, has to offer to these debates? This book aims to provide some answers to this question. The plural ‘answers’ has been chosen with careful consideration. Firstly, notwithstanding the joint theoretical platform which most of the contributors to this volume share, the way in which they relate modern systems theory to the study of conflicts in IR differs—and so do the answers they derive from their analyses. Secondly, the answers provided in this volume do not stand in isolation to general debates in IR and, it is the specific way in which the individual standpoint of each author in relation to his or her take on theoretical and empirical debates in IR affects the ‘answer’ chosen. At the same time, however, all contributions to this volume are covered by a shared conceptual umbrella. Hence, it is the main guiding line of this book to assess the usefulness of modern systems theory for the study of territorial conflicts in world society. In that context, the ability of modern systems theory to become part and parcel of IR theorizing crucially depends on the theory’s openness to engage in serious dialogue with both other theoretical approaches and concrete empirical issues dealt with in more established IR approaches. By discussing possible contributions of the theory of world society in modern systems theory to the study of conflicts in IR,

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this book aims to engage in such a dialogue and thereby to provide a fresh impetus for theoretically informed reasoning on this important subject matter—while in turn inviting the wider IR community to engage more intensively with the theory of world society and its potential merits for the study of world politics. This introductory chapter does not attempt to provide a comprehensive overview on the theory of world society in modern systems theory, for this is clearly beyond the more modest scope of this book and, indeed, these opening remarks.2 Rather, it aims to set the stage for the debate on the relationship between the theory of world society in modern systems theory and the study of conflicts in IR which unfolds in the various contributions to this volume. In order to set the stage for this discussion, the subsequent section will outline briefly the main parameters of the theory of world society in modern systems theory. In a second step, it will discuss the differences and similarities between the theory of world society in modern systems theory, on the one hand, and alternative world society approaches, such as world-systems analysis in Immanuel Wallerstein’s tradition, the world polity approach of the Stanford School and the international society/ world society nexus in the English School, on the other.

World society in modern systems theory and beyond At first sight, the theory of world society in modern systems theory might be mistaken for a rather Utopian project, namely a theoretical framework which refers to a world integrated by globally shared norms and values. It is, therefore, paramount to emphasize that the notion of world society in modern systems theory stands in stark contrast to globally oriented ‘communitarian’ approaches, while paying tribute to its sociological roots. For modern systems theory, such a normative approach to the study of society conflates ‘community’ with ‘society’, or Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft in the terms developed by nineteenth century sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies (1963). On this basis, the theory of world society in modern systems theory builds upon the insight that ‘society’ does not refer to a shared sense of belonging or identification between human beings but rather to (complex) patterns of inter-relation and inter-dependence which can, by definition, occur without processes of community-building. Society is thus understood as the highest-order social system possible which is constituted by and encompasses all communications. However, in contrast to a strong tradition in the social sciences, modern systems theory holds that communication cannot be conceptualized adequately in terms of classical, actor-centred sender-receiver models. Hence, in modern systems theory ‘communication’ is understood as the unity of the difference of three contingent selections, namely information (something must be ‘chosen’ as a piece of information at the expense of what is not chosen), utterance (i.e. this information is uttered in a specific manner and not another) and understanding (i.e. it is understood in one way and not another). The subsequent communicative act of rejection or acceptance (which again consists of information, utterance and understanding) is then, already, a connective communication. By arguing that communication, and not individual actors (as implied by sender-receiver models), forms the basic unit of society, modern systems theory shifts the focus of analysis towards the evolutionary dynamics that shape both the processes of

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connectivity between communications as well as the worldwide production of both ‘isomorphic’ structures and ‘heteromorphic’ bifurcations that result from communication (see Wimmer 2002b). Moreover, since all communication is (either potentially or actually) global in its reach, there is today no communication (and thus no society) outside world society. It is, however, not merely the connectivity of communications that constitutes world society but rather the way in which the repeated connectivity of communications generates specific semantics and structures of society. This is then also the reason why the ‘horizon’ of the world is embedded in every communication. Therefore, the term world society refers to more than a mere empirical observation of a quasi-mechanical connectivity of communications.3 In other words, in each communication society observes itself as ‘world society’. Finally, since communication can always be accepted and rejected, world society is by definition not internally integrated but characterized by manifold forms of internal differentiation. By elaborating on a common theme in sociology, modern systems theory argues that the main form of internal differentiation in world society is today located on the functional level, i.e. the differentiation into specific functional systems, such as politics, economics, religion, law and others. Each of these systems operates on the general basis of communication (and is thus a social system within world society) but can be distinguished from other social systems through a specific way in which communications are processed within each system. To pick but one example, communications are recognized as ‘political’ if they relate to the symbolized media of communication of the political system of world society, i.e. ‘power’ (see Luhmann 1988a; for a critique Guzzini 2004). Focusing on such specific characteristics of communication allows not only the ‘location of the political’ in society to be identified (Stäheli 2000), it also helps to detect the ways in which (political) communication leads to both integration and disintegration and allows the emergence of inequality and exclusion, as well as political antagonisms and conflict in world society, to be addressed (Stichweh 2000b; Stäheli 2000). Apart from the theory of world society in modern systems theory, there are several other schools of thought in sociology and IR that address ‘world society’. This section will discuss three of these approaches, namely world-systems analysis by Wallerstein, Chase-Dunn and Hall, the world polity approach by Meyer and collaborators as well as the nexus between international society/world society in the English School from Wight to Buzan. While this section will outline in particular the differences between modern systems theory, on the one hand, and these three approaches, on the other, this should not divert attention from the similarities between them. Thus, what unites all of these approaches is that they transcend the somewhat trivial observation of interdependence in a globalized context and identify the structural features which lead to the emergence of world society and which structure world politics. The theory of world-systems, which was originally developed by Wallerstein, focuses on global inter-connectedness and global patterns of economic transactions that have developed since the ‘long sixteenth century’ (see Wallerstein 1974b). Somewhat related to the focus in modern systems theory on dynamics of inclusion and exclusion in world society, world-systems analysis unfolds a comprehensive explanation for the internal fragmentation of world society, namely the huge economic differences between different regions. By doing so, world-systems analysis provided a powerful critique of the

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modernization literature of the 1960s and 70s. Moreover, it is on this basis that Wallerstein rejects the notion of society as being too state-centred, thereby arguably conflating the notions of society (Gesellschaff) and community (Gemeinschaft) referred to above (Greve and Heintz 2005; World Society Research Group 2000). While Wallerstein focuses almost exclusively on economic inequalities between a rich (Western) centre and a disadvantaged (non-Western) periphery, modern systems theory has a rather de-territorialized understanding of global inequalities. More specifically, modern systems theory identifies inclusion and exclusion in many different societal spheres, e.g. health, education, economics, politics, law, etc.—and these exclusions do not always coalesce in territorial terms. While it is true that dynamics of exclusion in one social system often spurs ‘chain exclusions’ across several social spheres within specific territorialities, such developments need not necessarily be the case. From a territorial perspective, this multilayered approach to inclusion and exclusion in modern systems theory thus blurs the borders of inclusion and exclusion, which Wallerstein conceptualizes in rather one-dimensional centre/periphery terms. A crucial difference between both theories then also relates to the level of analysis. Thus, according to Wallerstein world society is characterized by the dominance of one social system, namely economics, whereas modern systems theory stresses that in a functionally differentiated society there is no primacy of any social system (Wallerstein 1980). Somewhat echoing this observation, Chase-Dunn, Hall and others have then further developed world-systems analysis. While the economic dimension remains central to these writers, they analyze the global structural impact of other factors such as cultural dynamics, ecological issues and global communication facilities, as well as political dynamics (see Chase-Dunn 1999; Chase-Dunn and Grimes 1995; Hall 2002a). Thus, world-systems are now defined ‘as intersocietal networks in which the interactions (e.g. trade, warfare, intermarriage) are important for the reproduction of the internal structures of the composite units and importantly affect changes that occur in these local structures’ (Chase-Dunn and Grimes 1995:391). This focus on intersocietal networks has proven particularly helpful in advancing a historical perspective on world-systems and the ways in which interaction networks developed in the course of human civilization from regionally contained ‘empires’ to global ‘political/military interaction networks’ (ibid.: 392). However, despite the focus on intersocietal networks, there is no overarching notion of ‘society’ in world-systems analysis. Thus, the contradictions, inequalities (and conflicts) in the globalized ‘contemporary world-system of “casino capitalism”’ (ChaseDunn 1999:187) are interpreted as a systemic feature of an ‘intersocietal system’ (ibid.). That also is the reason why world-systems analysis refers to world society with rather normative undertones, i.e. as a vision of a ‘more humane, democratic, balanced and sustainable world society’ (Chase-Dunn 1999:187). A different understanding of world society is then advanced by the world polity approach of the Stanford School (Meyer, Rubinson, Ramirez and Boli-Bennett 1977; Meyer, Boli, Thomas and Ramirez 1998) Meyer et al. argue from a sociological institutionalist perspective that there are powerful global ‘isomorphic’ processes, i.e. specific cultural models that reproduce themselves in different settings. They refer, in particular, to the global expansion of the ‘state model’ as the main political unit in world politics. Thus, the isomorphic reproduction of the state on a global scale, which consolidated itself after World War II and the decolonization period, cannot be

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understood adequately from the perspective of a specific national system but rather from the perspective of the ‘isomorphic qualities’ of the respective social model—such as the ‘state’ but also other cultural models such as the ‘university model’ in global education, ‘the league model’ in global sports etc. With a view to IR, Barry Buzan rightly emphasizes that this understanding of world society in the Stanford School comes close to the conceptualization of ‘international society’ in the English School, namely that there are ‘powerful worldwide models about how humans should organize themselves’ (Buzan 2004:73). While modern systems theory shares with the Stanford School its focus on global processes of structural diffusion, the Stanford School is less interested in specifying the precise ‘operative forms’ through which these processes become constituted in the first place. While modern systems theory focuses on the dynamics of communication within different social systems, Stichweh has noted that in the Stanford School it is ‘not easy to see what should form the basic or elementary unit of a process of cultural construction’ (Stichweh 2000b:239). Moreover, through its emphasis on a shared culture, the world polity approach arguably tends to reproduce the problematic conflation between society and community mentioned above. Thus, by arguing that ‘world society celebrates, expands, and standardizes strong but culturally somewhat tamed national actors’ (Meyer, Boli, Thomas and Ramirez 1998:173), the Stanford School sketches out a ‘world polity’ that at least to some extent depends on shared norms and values. It is probably for this reason that the Stanford School also tends to neglect dynamics of disintegration and inequality in world society (Greve and Heintz 2005:102). In contrast, modern systems theory advances a rather structural notion of global isomorphic processes, such as the global availability of different media of communication (e.g. power, money, truth etc.) and specific functions and structures of distinct social systems, thereby highlighting the non-cultural, systemic patterns of integration in world society. Finally, within IR it has primarily been the English School which has discussed the notion of world society. This dates back to Martin Wight’s focus on the relationship between international society and interhuman cultural unity. Thus, Wight argues ‘that we must assume that a states-system will not come into being without a degree of cultural unity among its members’ (Wight 1977:31). As Buzan has argued, the notion of world society, while not explicitly mentioned here, is underlying this argument since international society is contrasted with a global societal system of cultural bonds. Thus, Wight infers the idea that world society is defined by common culture shared perhaps at the level of individuals, and certainly at the level of elites, and that the development of international society requires the existence of world society in these terms as a precondition. (Buzan 2004:31–32) In a similar way, Hedley Bull identifies world society in relation to shared cultural orientations of its constituent units, which are however individual actors and not communications, as modern systems theory would hold. Thus,

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by a world society we understand not merely a degree of interaction linking all parts of the human community to one another, but a sense of common interest and common values on the basis of which common rules and institutions may be built. (Bull 1977:279) It is on the basis of the distinction between mere systemic interrelations and shared norms that the notion of world society in the English School tradition tends to emphasize the dimension of ‘community’ rather than that of ‘society’. Moreover, it is important to note that states are at the heart of analysis in the English School. Thus, through the distinction between international society and world society, states are ascribed the status of a basic categorical unit so that the society of states ‘is the proper focus of study’ (Brown 2004:61). What is problematic about this distinction between international society and world society, at least from a systems theoretical perspective, is that there is no coherent explanation why both domains should constitute distinct ‘societies’. Thus, looking at Wight’s and Bull’s arguments, the question arises concerning into which shared context both domains are included—and how this overarching context should be referred to. In current English School writing, it is, in particular, Buzan who has, again, addressed the notion of world society. He proposed to replace the classical English School notion of world society ‘with the idea of the interplay among the interstate, interhuman and transnational domains’ (Buzan 2004:269). These different domains allow ‘all of the interesting cases whether historical, contemporary or foreseeable in the next few decades’ to be studied (ibid.: 204). While this is undoubtedly true from an analytical perspective, the questions remains whether such a shift from world society to several domains is the right theoretical answer to the correct observation that the ‘present usage of world society covers so many meanings as to sow more confusion than clarity’ (ibid.: 269–70). Thus, the focus on the three domains—and the relationship of these domains with international society—invisibilizes rather than answers the question of how there can be different societies in a context of globalized inter-connectedness, which is inherent in the thought that there is a distinct international society as opposed to the three domains mentioned above. Probably the main reason to attribute ‘societal status’ to the inter-state domain (i.e. the international society) is the importance which the English School rightfully attributes to primary institutions in inter-state relations and global politics at large. At least from a systems theoretical perspective, it could, however, be argued that primary institutions, as defined by the English School, are a key structure of international relations (which are part of world politics), without linking such systemic structures of the political system to the notion of society at all. These introductory remarks on different notions of world society in world-systems analysis, the world polity approach and the English School have not attempted to provide a comprehensive overview on these elaborated theories. The more modest objective was rather to highlight similarities and differences between notions of world society in these three approaches, on the one hand, and modern systems theory on the other. In summary, probably three main observations can be made. Firstly, modern systems theory builds on the argument that society is neither culturally/ normatively integrated nor constituted by human beings but rather integrated by means of structural connectivity of communications, which form the basic unit of society. (World) society must therefore be

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clearly distinguished from notions of community and, arguably, all three alternative approaches referred to above do not distinguish coherently between Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft. Secondly, since communications are (at least in the modern era, as also world-systems analysis emphasizes) global in their reach, there is, nowadays, only one society on the globe, namely world society. However, since communications can always be accepted or rejected, world society is internally characterized by manifold internal divisions and fractions, as is also highlighted by world-systems analysis and the English School. Thirdly, the prime internal division in world society is the differentiation into different functional systems. Thus, in world society there is no structural dominance of any distinct social system, such as economics or politics (as world-systems analysis or most IR approaches would hold). While these systems are all embedded into a world societal context, they are internally integrated through their own specific structures (e.g. media of communication) and the specific function they serve for society—and herein lies a point of encounter between modern systems theory and the Stanford School or notions of primary institutions in the English School. This section cannot come up with a concluding assessment on the pros and cons related to these different world society approaches. Rather, what the discussion in this section has attempted, is to increase awareness for the different ways in which these four approaches address the crucial distinction between society/community (see World Society Research Group 2000), on the one hand, and isomorphism/heteromorphism in global affairs (see Wimmer 2002b), on the other. This should, hopefully, provide the basis for understanding how the notion of world society is referred to in most contributions of this book and how it differs from alternative approaches. In that context, it has to be recognized that notwithstanding an increasing prominence in IR, the theory of world society in modern systems theory occupies until today only a niche in IR theorizing. This status has to do not only with the origins of this theory in sociology but, also, with the somewhat benign neglect the world of politics has received in Luhmann’s writings. However, there is some indication which points to a subtle change in this relationship. While not (yet) speaking of a passionate love affair, this change has affected both sides to the extent that modern systems theory and IR might no longer ‘make uneasy bedfellows’ (Albert 2004b:1). Thus, recent years have witnessed an increasing interest in IR in modern systems theory. On the one hand, this relates to contributions which attempt to introduce systems theoretical reasoning—or elements thereof—into current IR debates (see Albert and Hilkermeier 2004). On the other hand, it pertains to the observation that the theory of world society in modern systems theory receives increasing attention in IR beyond the more narrow circle of its main proponents (see Buzan 2004; Guzzini 2004; on Luhmann’s concept of ‘power’ see Luhmann 1988a and 2000a). As a closer inspection of the main theoretical concepts of the theory of world society reveals, there are indeed many overlaps with more established IR approaches and, in particular, those approaches which follow a constructivist research agenda.

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World society and conflicts As tempting as such meta-theoretical debates are, this is not the place to make an overall assessment on the ‘theoretical fit’ between the theory of world society in modern systems theory, on the one hand, and ‘classical’ IR theories, on the other. With a somewhat more modest objective, this volume wants, instead, to contribute to current debates in a specific subject-area in IR, namely the study of conflicts in international relations. With its world societal focus, this volume thereby aims to provide for many, hopefully enriching, new stimuli for the analysis of conflicts in IR. Notwithstanding the distinct theoretical and empirical angles chosen by each author, these introductory remarks can highlight some key overarching parameters which might serve as an appetizer for a more detailed study of the arguments presented in the individual contributions to this book. The thesis that the theory of world society in modern systems theory is particularly apt for the study of conflicts in IR stems from two key observations. Firstly, it can be argued that conflicts lie at the heart of systems theory—although this has until today been little emphasized in most systems theoretical writings. Thus, conflicts emerge whenever a communicationoffer is rejected—i.e. a contradiction is uttered. Conflicts are, thus, ubiquitous phenomena, not just in the sphere of international relations but in world society at large. While most social conflicts have a tendency for entropy and disappear quickly, some of them stabilize and develop into quite solid conflict patterns or conflict structures (see also Messmer 2003; Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006). Once conflicts have reached this stage, they tend to overarch rather than coexist alongside other social structures and, thereby, shape socio-political discourses and practices. This is precisely where a systems theoretical conceptualization of conflict—which starts from the general characteristics of conflicts and only then moves on to discuss the specific societal context in which conflicts occur—becomes interesting for a comprehensive study of (often violent) conflicts as they are today analyzed in IR. Hopefully, this also offers fruitful points of encounter between a systems theoretical approach to conflicts and other process-oriented, discursive and structural conceptualizations of conflicts in IR and neighbouring disciplines (Jabri 1996; Dahrendorf 1959; Coser 1964; Galtung 1964; Deutsch 1973). Secondly, another key rationale for incorporating concepts and ideas from the theory of world society in modern systems theory into the study of conflicts in IR relates to the level of analysis of such phenomena. Thus, as already mentioned, modern systems theory is based on the observation that society consists of communication only and that due to the general rule of a worldwide ‘horizon’ of all communications, the lenses through which conflicts in international relations are studied must necessarily be the lenses of world society. As already referred to above, the world societal focus of modern systems theory bears resemblance to other globalization, world society and international society discourses in IR and beyond (see Buzan 2004). However, while sharing many similarities with some of these approaches, modern systems theory differs from many of these on two crucial dimensions. Firstly, as a non-integrationist theory, modern systems theory does not conceptualize conflicts in world society in opposition to an ‘ideal conflict-free society’, not even in an implicit manner. While Luhmann has pointed to the problematic aspects of (violent) conflicts, the theory equally emphasizes the ubiquitous status and

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functional role of conflicts for the evolution of world society. Operating without ‘normative blinders’ for the study of conflicts in world society, modern systems theory has no in-built bias against conflicts as such. Hence, due to its focus on the specific communicational dynamics of conflicts, the theory is also more reluctant in attributing to, say, globalization, westernization or specific ‘cultures’ an inherent inclination to breed conflict. Moreover, modern systems allows present debordering processes in world society to be observed beyond previously dominant national borders, without necessarily assuming a decrease in the relevance of states in the international system. For that reason, modern systems theory seems to be particularly useful in that it neither underestimates the role of the state nor the role of non-state structures and actors in world society. All these arguments underline the key objective of this volume, namely to discuss the extent to which our understanding of conflicts in IR can be enhanced through the incorporation of theoretical concepts from the theory of world society in modern systems theory. Acknowledging the world societal embeddedness of conflicts in international relations, this incorporation promises to render an encounter between IR and this originally sociological theory particularly enriching both from a theoretical and from an empirical perspective.

Overview of the book While the individual contributions to this volume offer the reader specific angles and different perspectives on how conflicts in world society can be conceptualized from a systems theoretically informed IR perspective, there are nevertheless some unifying themes which bracket the different chapters in this book. These points of encounter between the theory of world society in modern systems theory, on the one hand, and the study of conflicts in IR, on the other, have been divided in this book into two main parts. Part I of the book comprises four chapters (by Thorsten Bonacker, Stephan Stetter, Klaus Schlichte and Eugenia Vathakou) which all discuss from an IR perspective the applicability of the theory of world society in modern systems theory to the study of different types of current conflicts in international relations. These points of observation on the study of conflicts in IR from systems theoretical perspectives comprise analyses on issues such as ‘post-Westphalian’ conflicts in a debordered world, regional conflict structures, war and Greco-Turkish relations. Following up on this, Part II then moves on to discuss from different systems theoretical perspectives possible points of contact between IR, on the one hand, and other social science disciplines, such as law, sociology and philosophy, on the other. This dialogue between IR and other social science disciplines is an invitation to adopt wider and multidisciplinary perspectives on conflicts in world society. The five contributions in this section (by Heinz Messmer, Werner Schirmer, Alain Pottage, Achilles Skordas and Gertrud Brücher) discuss topics such as theories of social conflict, the role of the state in world politics, legal approaches to territorial conflicts in post-colonial settings, international law and conflict as well as terrorism and the impact of 11 September 2001. Finally, reflecting on these manifold perspectives on conflicts in world society, the conclusion (by Mathias Albert) discusses the contribution which the theory of world society in modern systems theory can make to debates in IR on conflicts nowadays. Acknowledging that this volume, with its specific

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focus on conflicts in world society, can only mark the beginning of a hopefully ever-increasing dialogue between IR and systems theory on many subject areas, the conclusion, thus, flags out possible points of departure for embarking on such an exciting endeavour.

Overview of the chapters Part I of this book discusses various facets of conflicts in world society from a systems theoretically informed IR perspective. Shifting the focus to the impact of concrete structural features of the political system of world society on conflicts, Thorsten Bonacker takes a detailed look beyond the level of the nation state and proposes a theoretical model that allows the role of human rights to be conceptualized in ‘postterritorial conflicts’ in world society. By relating the study of conflicts in the ‘postnational constellation’ to processes of debordering and rebordering, Bonacker accounts for the new liaison between conflict studies, on the one hand, and modern system theory and other constructivist approaches, on the other. Hence, notwithstanding the enduring regulative and symbolic relevance of state borders both for integrative and conflictive cross-border relations, human rights have become the central ‘empty signifier’ in current regulative and symbolic rebordering processes. Thus, since the 1950s and, in particular, since the end of the Cold War, the symbolic representation of world society is increasingly structured around this ‘empty signifier’ of human rights. This development, however, has quite ambivalent effects when it comes to integration and conflict in world society. On the one hand, human rights both foster the decoupling of the communityterritory-nexus, which has dominated in the ‘national constellation’ and led to the emergence of rudimentary forms of normative integration at the level of world society, thereby also having the potential to become a reference point for conflict settlement in the ‘postnational constellation’. On the other hand, however, human rights also become the symbolic reference point for ‘postterritorial’ political conflicts in world society, such as humanitarian intervention, so-called ‘new wars’, transnational terrorism, the ‘war on terror’ or war economies in a debordered world economy. Stephan Stetter looks at regional conflict clusters in world society. His chapter deals with a particular puzzle for conflict studies. Thus, empirical analyses of global media coverage reveal that there is a surprisingly weak relationship between the visibility of single states in media coverage, on the one hand, and conflict occurrence, on the other. However, Stetter argues that this puzzle can actually be solved once the territorial focus on the state is replaced by a distinct world societal focus of observation. Thus, it is not primarily individual states that figure high in global media attention but, rather, specific regional clusters which are observed by media as distinct ‘conflict regions’ in world society. On this basis, two regions are then particularly visible according to empirical data on media coverage, these being the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and subSaharan Africa. From a theoretical perspective, this observation is not only a challenge to state-centred approaches to the study of territorial conflicts, but also requires a recalibration of systems theoretical approaches to the study of ‘space’, ‘borders’, ‘territory’ and ‘region’. While this spatial dimension has been downplayed in traditional systems theoretical writings, more recent approaches have attempted to provide a more

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balanced perspective. Discussing these approaches, this chapter provides contours of a systems theoretical perspective on ‘space’, territory and regionalization processes in world society. Based on these theoretical fundaments, Stetter then discusses the specific regional dynamics which spur the intense media observation of conflicts in the Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa, thereby identifying regional patterns of accumulated exclusion as a key element in accounting for conflict intensity in these two regions. Klaus Schlichte then takes a critical perspective on modern systems theory and looks at how the theory deals with a key concept related to conflicts in world society, namely ‘war’. In his chapter, Schlichte compares the systems theoretical take on this issue with the so-called ‘Hamburg approach’ on the study of war in world society. He argues that ‘war’ is a challenge to modern systems theory, since due to some of its underlying modernization assumptions it has not elaborated sufficiently on its conceptualization of war. In that, Schlichte argues, ‘the Hamburg approach’, which adopts a structuralhistorical perspective on war, might offer some advantages. The necessity to develop a clear theoretical language on war in international relations, thereby, stems from two sources. Firstly, most theoretical accounts in IR and other disciplines remain rather phenomenological, thus failing to set out a generalizable, universally applicable theoretical framework. However, these studies have been successful in showing that wars continue to be a defining feature in world society. Secondly, theories of contemporary world society seem well advised to take a more detailed look at the phenomenon of war and organized violence and to integrate these empirical phenomena into their theoretical frameworks. While Schlichte stresses some similarities between the Luhmannian perspective on war and the ‘Hamburg approach’, which derives its theoretical concepts mainly from Marx, Weber and Elias, he argues that modern systems theory has certain shortcomings when compared to the structural-historical approach. Thus, both approaches share their basic conceptualization as systemic, comprehensive theories which take world society as their respective starting point of analysis. However, they differ with regard to the theoretical location of violence and war in both theories. While modern systems theory with its assumption of a primacy of functional differentiation (and an accompanying notion of modernity) tends to underestimate the staying-power of conflict in modern world society, the ‘Hamburg approach’ stresses complex tensions in world society which relate to the parallel occurrence of modernity and tradition. This modernity-tradition nexus then provides for a theoretically informed fundament for the study of conflicts and war in world society. On the basis of detailed empirical research, Eugenia Vathakou analyzes the rapprochement between Greece and Turkey since the late 1990s from a systems theoretical perspective. By challenging traditionally state and actor-centred approaches that account for the improvement in Greco-Turkish relations since 1999, she argues that the focus of modern systems theory on autopoietic processes (i.e. social systems that operate according to their own specific structural logics) helps to conceptualize conflict resolution between both sides after the disastrous earthquake in Turkey in August 1999, without recourse to simplistic cause-effect models. Vathakou conceptualizes the effect of the earthquake as a ‘butterfly effect’, which led to autocatalytic chain reactions in Greece and Turkey which then set in motion a complex process of bifurcation in various social systems—the media, politics, the interaction level as well as civil society organizations.

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This bifurcation, through which all these systems became increasingly ‘irritated’ by unexpected cooperative events in their respective environment, triggered the emergence of the new attractor of cooperation in Greco-Turkish relations, which in a short period consolidated its status as a new reference point for societal communication in both countries. This new attractor of cooperation was characterized by the emergence of new forms of self-description in Greece and Turkey, thereby replacing previously dominant self-other descriptions which related to Greco-Turkish differences through new forms of self-description which emphasized the difference between people/state within both countries, evoked the memory of cooperative pasts in Greco-Turkish relations and observed the institutionalization of cooperation in the aftermath of the earthquake. In contrast to many studies in IR, which replicate the self-description of political actors as being in the driver’s seat of defining the state of bilateral relations, Vathakou argues that political actors in Greece and Turkey got rather hijacked by events unfolding in the environment of the political system and that this changing environment, as well as the new attractor of cooperation, was forced upon, rather than shaped by, political actors. Moving beyond the disciplinary ‘borders’ of IR, Part II of this volume sets out systems theoretically informed perspectives on conflicts in world politics from sociological, legal and philosophical perspectives. Heinz Messmer sets out a comprehensive theoretical model for the study of conflicts as an autopoietic system. He argues that conflicts are based on the communication of contradiction and that, from an analytical perspective, four different stages of social conflict can be discerned, namely conflict episodes, issue conflicts, relational conflicts and power conflicts. These four conflict stages can be differentiated according to the specific way and intensity with which ‘contradiction’ is communicated. Moreover, they differ with regard to specific functions of each stage for the social relationship subject to the conflict. Notwithstanding the differences between these four stages—ranging from mere conflict episodes to (often violent) power conflicts—all stages of conflict share some key characteristics. First of all, they all are based on the (repeated) rejection of communication offers. Secondly, on the social dimension, they all mark a distinction and establish a border in the social relationship of those involved in the conflict. Hence, conflicts are a substantial and universal device in structuring complex patterns of socio-spatial distance and, indeed, identity. Hence, Messmer views ‘conflict’ as another term for the dynamic struggle of enlarging and limiting social borders. Due to the interrelationship between spatial and social distance, territorial borders are regarded as a prime opportunity context for continued rejection of communication offers and, hence, conflict. This is particularly visible in the periphery of world society, where territorial borders are often synonymous with only poorly regulated social conflict structures. In contrast, in the (western) centre of world society, in which functional differentiation is more advanced, borders become multifaceted, thereby weakening the socio-spatial congruity of borders. While functional differentiation and interpenetration in world society provide manifold stimuli for cooperation, the ubiquitous status of conflict—depending solely on the communication of a contradiction—renders a conflict-free society impossible. Thus, the placeless borders of functionally differentiated social systems will lead to new forms of social conflict in international relations. In this context, territorial border conflicts will not disappear but will, more often than not, be translated into a new social order of socio-spatial opportunities that transcends territorial divides.

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Werner Schirmer also looks at the role of the state in international relations through sociologically inspired lenses. These lenses, so the underlying argument of this chapter goes, are helpful in accounting for what could be called the state-paradox in IR. Thus, in the ‘post-Westphalian’ order, states seem to lose much of the centrality they enjoyed in international relations until the end of the ‘bipolar order’. On the other hand, states continue to be (among others) key actors in international politics and still hold significant power resources. Schirmer argues that a systems theoretical perspective allows both these perspectives to be taken into consideration, thereby neither downplaying nor overestimating the role of states in the political system of world society. In particular, Schirmer develops two key conceptualizations which provide a fertile ground for an encounter between IR and systems theory. Thus, building on the communication theoretical fundaments of systems theory, states are understood as organizations, i.e. a specific, self-referential social system which operates on the basis of ‘decisions’. In contrast to functional systems (such as the political system of world society), organizations can be observed and action can be communicatively attributed to such organizations. Hence, Schirmer argues that the function of states in international relations is primarily one of being an ‘address’ for political communication. Seen from that perspective, international relations can then be re-conceptualized as inter-organization systems (IOS) in which primarily states, but also other organizations—such as the United Nations (UN), regional organizations, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), transnational corporations and others—communicate. Alain Pottage analyzes from a systems theoretically informed legal perspective how the territorial conflict between overlapping claims on territory has been dealt with in Australia. More specifically, Pottage assesses the way in which the legal system in the Australian context observes its territorial environment and how common law jurisprudence has structured relations between the indigenous population, on the one hand, and the political sovereign, on the other. By adopting a systems theoretical perspective on the functional differentiation of law in world society, Pottage shows that common law in Australia had to ‘re-territorialize’ itself in the face of intranational territorial conflict between aboriginal ‘native title’ and the ‘radical title’ of the political sovereign. While recent case-law has developed a mode of observation which for the first time reflects on its own attachment to territory and history, an analysis of the semantics of jurisprudence on ‘radical title’ reveals that common law remains stuck on law’s founding problem, namely its attempt to render the paradox of a multiplication of territory (and hence sovereignty)—‘abstract space’ in the words of Carl Schmitt— invisible through a process of constitutionalization of ‘radical title’. Yet, this contemporary form of feudalism encounters certain problems. Thus, potential indigenous sovereignty, whenever it is claimed, continues to be an irritation for a legal system which depends on the various assumptions enshrined in the distinction between ‘native title’ and ‘radical title’. This environmental irritation explains why recent case-law in Australia has cautiously challenged the underlying assumptions on which the legal construction of ‘radical title’ is built—without, however, being able to overcome its conflictive foundational paradox.

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Another legal perspective on conflicts in world society is then offered by Achilles Skordas. He looks, in particular, at the tension between different interpretations of international law/global law in world society. Skordas assesses the extent to which international law is able to respond adequately to the challenges posed by functional differentiation in world society and to what extent it contributes to an emergent world society-building. By discussing these dimensions he addresses two main tensions that arise for international law in world society. Firstly, international law has to be cognitively open to its societal environment, in particular to the process of functional differentiation and the autonomy of functional systems in world society. Skordas argues that this notion is already inherent in the international law concept of ‘just peace’, which refers to a contingent process of world society-building. The tools of modern systems theory are then helpful in discerning the co-evolution of international law and its environment in world society. Adopting such a perspective on international law, Skordas shows that global law is characterized by a tension between the co-evolution of global law and other functional systems along specific issue-lines with the traditional nexus between international law and the state. International law is thus developing from being a law of states to being the law of the (functionally differentiated) world society. From that perspective, ‘just peace’ symbolizes the cognitive openness of global law in world society. Secondly, this observation spurs another tension which international law currently faces, namely the tension between the inner-systemic functions and programmes of international law, on the one hand, and the impact of the environmental hegemonic space of world politics on international law, on the other. While the fragmentation along issue-lines is already a recipe against unilateral hegemonic impact, Skordas argues that the cognitive openness of international law necessitates and legitimizes the (however constrained) impact of the hegemonic space—and that this tension is consequently reintroduced into international law’s systemic code. In the final chapter to this volume, Gertrud Brücher adopts a philosophical perspective on the relation between modern systems theory and conflicts in world society. Brücher deconstructs the semantics and structures of how, in the aftermath of 11 September 2001, the West has dealt with the traumatic experience inflicted by the terror attacks on New York and Washington. She argues that the traumatic experiences of 11 September bear the danger of establishing a new, negative founding-myth in the Western world which, in contrast to its intention, will exacerbate rather than decrease the conflict potential stemming from international terrorism. Brücher points out that 11 September 2001 is a challenge to the traditional liberal irony of the West, as for example set out by Richard Rorty. Thus, liberal irony has not been able to cope with disappointment to (positive) expectations. The same is, however, true for tragic irony, which always risks to instrumentalize the terrible event of 11 September. The puzzle the West is confronted with is how to talk about peace pacifistically and Brücher suggests that, following philosopher Peter Sloterdijk, cybernetic irony can help in bringing about a culture of complexity and a practised constructivism that lets discourse take precedence over violence. Relating the polyvalent logic of cybernetic irony to the operative design of modern systems theory, then allows to develop a triadic structure of operation, problem orientation and motivation which transcends the conflict enhancing dichotomy of conflict

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enhancing ‘either/or communications’ both in political and academic discourses. The tragic event then becomes a moment of fate and evolution and a peace-enhancing antimyth is set in motion that is able to operatively transcend a mere orientation on either vicious circles (tragic irony) or virtuous circles (liberal irony). In the conclusion Mathias Albert outlines some points of departure for a fruitful continuation of the dialogue between modern systems theory and IR. He argues that in the wake of globalization and the need for conceptual accounts which embed a changed world of international relations in more comprehensive social scientific frameworks, modern systems theory can indeed provide theoretical concepts that are adequate to the study of what is in fact a highly complex world which defies understanding in terms of simplistic world models and linear thought. As Albert points out, the study of territorial conflicts in world society could, in that context, turn out to be a particularly fertile ground for such a joint departure. This does, however, require both sides to clarify further how the omni-present and functional role of conflicts in a complex and contradictory world affects political dynamics on a global and regional scale.

Notes 1 This book will use the common distinction: capital letters mark the scientific discipline (International Relations); small letters mark its subject (international relations). 2 For English-language overviews on modern systems theory see Andersen 2003. See also Luhmann 1982a, 1990a, 1995a, 2002 and 2005. 3 I thank Tobias Werron for bringing this observation to my attention.

Part I Points of observation: Systems theory, IR and the study of conflicts in world society

2 Debordering by human rights The challenge of postterritorial conflicts in world society Thorsten Bonacker

Introduction Recent theoretical debates, which were led in different social science disciplines, show alternatives to the strict disciplinary separation of sociology, political science, IR and peace and conflict studies. By doing so, they also challenge a traditional understanding of research on social and political conflicts. It is in this context that different theoretical approaches, such as modern systems theory, poststructuralism, deconstructivism and new cultural studies’ approaches emphasize the necessity of new perspectives on social conflicts. These theories view conflicts as communicative and selfselective processes, in which incompatible expectations abound.1 More specifically, world society approaches— regardless of whether they originate from Stanford, Darmstadt or Bielefeld—cross the strict border between scientific disciplines, on the one hand, and social and international conflicts, on the other.2 Last, but not least, research on conflicts has not only discovered theories of world society, but also, vice versa, within the debate on the evolution of the world society, conflicts have become a main topic of research. On this basis, this chapter argues that the new liaison between research on world society and research on conflicts is extremely productive. In order to substantiate this claim against the background of a concrete issue of empirical relevance to IR, this chapter analyzes the importance of human rights for processes of deterritorialization, debordering and ‘postterritorial’ conflicts in world society. In the first part, the chapter distinguishes between two different kinds of constitution of social order—a regulative and a symbolic dimension of borders and bordering processes. It then sets out to examine the role of the nation state in processes of functional differentiation affecting the political system of world society, as well as the political representation of world society. By way of relating these arguments to conflicts in world society, it argues that political conflicts that appear as territorial conflicts are typical for this so-called ‘national constellation’. In this constellation, human rights are mainly institutionalized as citizen rights, i.e. political and legal inclusion via citizenship coincides with the affiliation to a particular political community. However, with the institutionalization of a transnational human rights regime since the 1950s, and especially since the end of the Cold War, a debordering of the political system of world society has taken place. This debordering comprises two dimensions. On the one hand, it relates to a debordering of political and legal inclusion, while, on the other hand, human rights become an empty signifier that now serves as a symbolic representation of world society. As a result, human rights become a symbolic

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reference point in political conflicts and contribute to the deterritorialization of the world political system and its conflicts. Finally, the chapter outlines the challenge of a new type of political conflict, which arises in this ‘postnational constellation’ and which is referred to here as postterritorial conflict.

Two dimensions of bordering For all their conceptual differences, recent constructivist approaches like modern systems theory, poststructuralism and new cultural studies approaches all stress that social orders are not based on closed structures but are the result of a drawing of a line which defines what lies beyond this order. While systems theory emphasizes the operative act of bordering, poststructuralist and deconstructive approaches stress the incompleteness of social order constitution. Hence, orders always have to be incomplete but are constitutive for all social orders (see Stäheli 2000; Bonacker 2003b). At the same time, however, borders will always be controversial as there are no equivalents for them in an ontological reality.3 Accordingly, borders are, in principle, contingent and often empirically contested—yet for their function of establishing order, they have to be defictionalized at the same time. Against the background of these theoretical arguments, an inherent connection between the constitution of social order and social conflicts can be maintained up to this point. Thus, the way a society constructs its borders is at the same time a process of constructing latent conflict lines, not only between the inside and the outside or between a legitimate position within an order and its internal counterparts, but also between a legitimate order and its ‘Other’. What kind of conflicts arise in that context depends on the manifestation of this ‘Other’ and is, therefore, an empirical question. But theoretically speaking, there is no modern social order without conflict that could reasonably be conceived of. Because they constitute social orders, borders can be understood as institutions. Following neo-institutional and discourse theoretical approaches, two dimensions of bordering as a mechanism for their institutionalization can be distinguished. Firstly, the regulative dimension of inclusion into or exclusion out of an order and, secondly, the symbolic dimension of order integration.4 Borders serve as a control mechanism, i.e. they regulate the permission and inclusion into an order. Mechanisms of inclusion are forms of ‘addressability’ (Bora 2002:68) and are communicatively constructed by social systems, thereby institutionalizing expectations and roles. With such mechanisms of inclusion, individuals become relevant for social systems in certain aspects, for example, as political subjects, as consumers or as human beings. Thus, inclusions regulate the participation in social orders as, for example, the eligibility for welfare programmes or membership in organizations.5 Nevertheless, borders not only have to be constructed operatively through inclusion, but they also have to be named as such. Social orders, therefore, are also constituted in a symbolic mode of bordering. In contrast to regulative or functional inclusion, this process can be defined as symbolic integration of social order. It is about a social order’s ability to name and to present itself and, as a result, to become accepted as a legitimate order. On the symbolic dimension, borders do not solve the problem of regulation, but they do solve the problem of how and by which means the unity of a social order can be represented.

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Symbolic borders—as it could be said following Ernesto Laclau’s discourse theory—are borders of ‘significability’. ‘That is, the limits of signification can only announce themselves as the impossibility of realizing what is within those limits—if the limits could be signified in a direct way, they would be internal to signification and would not be limits at all’ (Laclau 1996:37). Therefore, symbolic borders are not only a demarcation but they are, also, the symbolic possibility of demarcations and at the same time the impossibility of a systems totality. ‘If what we are talking about are the limits of a signifying system, it is clear that those limits cannot themselves be signified, but have to show themselves as the interruption or breakdown of the process of signification’ (ibid.). In other words, symbolic borders integrate different positions within a system by addressing their equivalences and at the same time they draw a distinction between those positions because they only make sense if they are different in the same system. Such symbolic borders are created by an ‘empty signifier’ (ibid.) or symbol, which represents all the different positions in a signifying system without making another difference. In the words of discourse theory, every empty symbol is ‘the undecidable locus’ (ibid.: 39) of a system which represents its unity. This symbolic embodiment of the content, the main idea of a social order, creates a symbolic or discursive constructed space, in which specific statements, terms, demands and interpretations are possible and, therefore, a social order in which by referring to such a unity-representation something can be marked.6 And it is also possible to say that it is a matter of a legitimating border which distinguishes itself by way of referring to the possible and the excluded. It is decisive that this is not simply a question of a communicatively achieved differentiation. Borders develop an integrative effect to the internal within the symbolic dimension, so they enable a multitude of different interpretations of what a specific social order is according to its (constructed) essence. Moreover, the symbolic reference point of these different interpretations serves as a representation of this order. Such a symbolic reference point marks a discursive border in so far as it receives its meaning from the different interpretations that refer to it within an order. That is why the order-establishing symbol may be understood as a symbol that is open for interpretation as well, because its borderkeeping function develops while the symbol indiscriminates against its different interpretations. Laclau explains this by means of the dialectics of universality and particularism. The common symbolic reference point embodies a universality that cannot be deceived by anyone and to which all particular legitimate identities must refer. This universal is an ‘empty place’ (ibid.: 55), which is filled by the one particular that is capable of representing the unity of different identities, because it is identified with them. According to Laclau, this symbolic place of the universal cannot stay empty and, at the same time, liquefied by civil society because particular identities must always have a transcendent content. Otherwise they could not be perceived as identities in the context of a common order and, thus, would not be symbolically integrated. According to Laclau, the particular embodiment of the universal is an expression of hegemony. Firstly, because this filling of the symbolic place is contingent and, secondly, because the symbolization is always bound to a border that it cannot transgress. In other words, the universal is itself constituted by a paradox. While it is the opposite of particular communities, it depends at the same time on these.

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The universal, as we have seen, does not have a concrete content of its own (which would close it on itself), but is an always receding horizon resulting from the expansion of an indefinite chain of equivalent demands. The conclusion seems to be that universality is incommensurable with any particularity but cannot, however, exist apart from the particular. (ibid.: 34) For Laclau this paradox of universality is the condition of modernity and this shapes his perspective on any theoretical or political attempt to solve the paradox. At the heart of this paradox is the insight that the process of integration is both connective and incomplete. With a view to the paradox, Laclau, hence, argues that its non-solution is the very precondition of democracy. The solution of the paradox would imply that a particular body had been found, which would be the true body of the universal. But in that case, the universal would have found its necessary location, and democracy would be impossible. If democracy is possible, it is because the universal has no necessary body and no necessary content; different groups, instead, compete between themselves to temporarily give to their particularisms a function of universal representation. (ibid.: 34) Consider, for example, the Cyprus conflict as a conflict of borders or—more precisely—a conflict of territories in their symbolic dimension.7 In this context it is not the point that the conflict rests on a simple and socially constructed distinction between Turks and Greeks. Rather, referring to the Cyprus conflict as a conflict system, the symbolization of both sides is a consequence of different interpretations of what it means to be Turkish or to be Greek. Within this conflict, being Turkish or being Greek can become a symbolic reference point in order to transform oneself into a conflict party. It is decisive that the respective symbols, which are open for interpretation, symbolize something different to the internal, i.e. there is a variety of different starting points for being Turkish or Greek. Each symbol, which expresses this, acts as being typified by an identity represented by it. One aspect of the conflict concerns the questions of citizenship and affiliation, in short, inclusion and territorial bordering. The other aspect of the conflict concerns symbolic orders which can be shaped in a more or less antagonistic manner. Consequently, the power of symbols which are open for interpretation rests upon their undeterminable nature. Wishing to take a legitimate position, one must refer to them. From a discursive point of view, it can become impossible to adopt the view of a multicultural perspective within a nationalistic territorial conflict, because the perspective cannot refer to a correspondent symbol and, thereby, cannot become legitimized—so this is an empirical question as well. Against this background, two types of border conflicts can now be distinguished. A symbol which is open for interpretation forms a symbolic room within which different and contrasting interpretations of the symbol are possible. Here, conflicts are not only permitted but constantly produced. Due to their common symbolic reference point, although being controversial, they have first and foremost an integrative effect.

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Such conflicts contribute to the stabilization of borders. Following Lyotard (1988), they can be understood as a legal dispute in a common discourse universe. Being Turkish or Greek might be controversial and subject to vehement public and political discussions, but from a symbolic point of view, the corresponding symbol constitutes, as a result of this conflict, a conflict system. These are then border conflicts on the hegemony of a symbolic order, which function as a différend (Lyotard 1988) and are, therefore, nondecidable. Here, symbolic orders face each other in an antagonistic way and struggle with each other for discursive dominance. As they have no common symbolic reference point but rather place different symbols against each other, such border conflicts often tend to escalate into violence. The transformation of a différend between mutually exclusive symbolic orders through a legal dispute, which is integrated in a common symbolic order, would thus be a possibility of conflict settlement as far as the symbolic dimension is concerned.

National bordering and territorial conflicts While describing the (political) evolution of world society, several authors have suggested that a distinction be made between a national and a postnational constellation or a ‘Westphalian’ and a ‘post-Westphalian’ system, as far as the political system of world society is concerned. ‘Because of the challenge of denationalization the different elements of the national constellation—major problems, governance, resources and legitimacy—do not focus anymore on the nation state but are distributed on different levels’ (Zangl and Zürn 2003:155; Habermas 2001b; Schneckener 2003). In the postnational constellation the nation state, therefore, assumes a different function and is decoupled from the nation as the expression of a political community (see Beck 1997; McGrew 1997). When viewing national bordering practices against this background, a congruency of inclusion and symbolic integration emphasized by different sides on the level of the national constellation of world society is striking (see Bös 2001b). In this context, national constellation means that the political system of world society is, on the one hand, primarily segmentary—i.e. territorially—differentiated into nation states. On the other hand, however, functional differentiation is a structural principle of world society and, therefore, stands in a certain tension with segmentary differentiation.8 It could be argued that in the national constellation of world society this tension is dissolved by an embedding of functional differentiation within different nation states. This embedding is constructed via an institutional congruency of inclusion, integration and territoriality.9 This congruency of inclusion and integration comprises two main aspects. Firstly, the symbolic function of the nation state to the outside, i.e. referring to the ability to express the political order of world society symbolically and, secondly, its symbolic function on the internal level, i.e. referring to its members.10 The nation state has, thus, for a long time represented world society as an ‘institutionalized leading idea, that structures processes of ongoing state formation and interethnic conflict in world society’ (Stichweh 2000b:55; see also Meyer, Boli and Thomas 1987). Being a member of a world societal ‘family of nations’, a nation state

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always stands for more than merely a unit of political organization and, in that sense, always represents the whole family of nations. Within the national constellation, world society is symbolically seen as an international society.11 Looking at the inside of a nation state, the congruency of borders of inclusion and of integration consists in the unity of the political and legal inclusion through citizenship and the belonging to a political community. Only as a member of a nation is a person politically and legally included and only as a citizen is a person a legal subject. The human rights paradox of the national constellation, which Hannah Arendt (1973) has elaborated, directly relates to these two dimensions. Members—but only they—can identify themselves via the belonging to and inclusion into a nation as members of world society.12 This symbolic double meaning of a nation is especially pertinent in political conflicts, because the nation state is the symbolic reference point for the constitution of interests, aims and collective actors. This also implies that mainly states or groups, claiming to represent a nation politically, are the key actors of world society in the national constellation. National bordering means at the same time territorial bordering. As the nation represents the symbolic reference point for the symbolization of world society within the national constellation, political conflicts in world society always have a territorial aspect as well (see Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006). Either political conflicts are territorially confined and appear as conflicts within a territory or they are territorial conflicts themselves. Because borders are generally contingent and because in the national constellation world society is symbolized via the nation state, territorial conflicts as well as the symbolic differentiation between citizens and non-citizens are inevitable. They are, therefore, not an indication for anomy but a form of integration by the nation state.

Debordering by human rights In the debate on the evolution of world society, it has been emphasized regularly that the aforementioned national constellation of international relations changed into a ‘postnational constellation’ (Habermas 200 1b). According to the World Society Research Group, this change can be described as a debordering process (World Society Research Group 2000; Albert 2002a; Albert, Jacobson and Lapid 2001; Albert, Brock and Wolf 2000). In this context, debordering can be defined as the functional change of borders, the loss of importance of their territorial anchoring and—as a consequence—the decoupling of (functional) system borders and territorial borders. But in contrast to theories of globalization, as well as theories of trans- and denationalization, world society theory stresses the fact that debordering means both new forms of debordering and rebordering/demarcation, because without borders no social order can reasonably be conceived of. Moreover, rebordering is a reaction to debordering processes. ‘Viewed in this light, demarcation (rebordering) would be, first and foremost, a way of regulating the process of transformation, not of arresting it’ (Albert and Brock 2000:42–43). For example, the global human rights regime is, on the one hand, a typical case for the process of debordering in so far as it decouples individual rights from the notion of belonging to a particular political community. Hence, we can speak here of both law and

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politics beyond the state, as well as postnational forms of inclusion and integration. On the other hand, however, the global human rights regime draws a new line and creates a new border, for example, between liberal states and ‘states of concern’. The question, then, is how the human rights regime can be understood in this global process of debordering. And then the argument is that we have to distinguish between the regulative and the symbolic dimensions of human rights in world society. The development of a transnational human rights regime impelled this process of debordering—while it is at the same time a result of it. In that context, it should be emphasized that the function of a regime generally is to institutionalize a set of norms, information and decision making structures and, therefore, to enable a multitude of different forms of inclusions. As far as the regulation of action is concerned, human rights have two forms: one being action-restricting; the other being action-enabling. According to Jack Donnelly (1986), the human rights regime can be regarded as a regulation system that supports the formulation and expectability of constraints for international actors. This corresponds with the somewhat more focused definition offered by systems theory, which argues that regimes acquire the status of ‘virtual statehood (in the meaning of the production of collectively binding decisions) of the world political system. Transnational regimes can be understood as special institutions for the production of a world or, in any case, a transnational ability to decide’ (Japp 2003b:233). Because they are observed as durable and stable and because they define social relations, borders can be conceived as institutions (see Brodocz 2003). Therefore, processes of debordering are a form of institutional change. Consequently, this change refers to the regulative as well as to the symbolic dimension of borders, i.e. it relates to the debordering of legal and political inclusion, on the one hand, and the debordering of symbolic integration on the other. Several developments in world politics indicate that a debordering of political and legal inclusion actually takes place. Since the 1980s, human rights have been increasingly institutionalized as individual rights. As Jacobson (2001; 1996) and Sikkink (1993) emphasized, individuals, as such, count as legal persons, but not anymore due to their citizenship. Thereby, individuals can make claims to a state without being its citizen. Moreover, the development of a postnational citizen law, traced especially by Soysal (1994), shows that legitimizing a legal order becomes more and more interlinked with references to transnationally valid human rights. Of course, this process of debordering is characterized to a high degree by the existence of ‘courts across borders’ (Jacobson and Ruffer 2003). In that sense, judicial areas become disengaged from national territories. Above all, this can be observed in the EU, where there is a well differentiated human rights regime, in which human rights play, for example, an important role in the establishment of a common foreign and security policy. They are also pivotal in the context of the Copenhagen criteria on EU membership, which stipulate that human rights are a central inclusion criterion for those states seeking membership in the EU. Scholars of ‘legal pluralism’ have shown that human rights are not only institutionalized on the national and the international levels, but on a transnational level as well. Thus, ‘the increasing influence of NGOs and social movements on international human rights regimes and environmental regimes point to the transnationalization of law. They also challenge the monopoly of the state as the only site of law production and enforcement’ (Randeria 2003:153). Moreover, as Teubner (2003; 1997b) points out, human rights as

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legal norms are part of contracts and agreements among non-governmental actors. Finally, transnational human rights organizations play a decisive role in the development, implementation and monitoring of human rights, for example in the context of political change in states and regions (Risse, Jetschke and Schmitz 2002; Risse, Ropp and Sikkink 1999). This has direct significance for the debordering of political and legal inclusion in so far as new political actors participate in the genesis and validity of norms that grow out of a context beyond the nation state but come into effect within it. The influence of global legal norms, such as human rights, on nation states is, therefore, a decisive aspect of debordering by human rights.13 Thus, in the postnational constellation, nation states transform into ‘states without nations’ (Jacobson 1996:107; Wiener 2001) which implement and guarantee transnational human rights within specific state orders. Moreover, this process of transnationalization implies also a change—and not just a replacement—of the constitution of state sovereignty in the international system. In the context of modern secular conditions, sovereignty depends always on successful legitimization processes. ‘To the extent that “sovereignty” as an operational norm follows, rather than precedes, some form of legitimation of sovereignty as a principle, the internationalization of human rights can be seen as an evolution of the constitution of sovereignty, rather than as a challenge to it’ (Barkin 1998:229). As far as the symbolic debordering by human rights is concerned, it is decisive to point out that human rights have become a symbol which allows for an ever larger number of interpretations following the end of the Cold War. Following Laclau (1996) such a symbol can be called an ‘emptied signifier’, i.e. a symbol without a fixed meaning but with a large number of different (possible) meanings. The process of emptying the meaning of a symbol evolves through different and sometimes incompatible interpretations. As such, an emptied symbol expresses the order of world society symbolically and relieves the nation state within the postnational constellation from the function of representing this symbol. Somewhat more precisely it can be argued from an empirical perspective, that we are today in a phase of transformation in which both symbols struggle for hegemony. The process of emptying the meaning of the human rights norm is mainly based on the fact that the term ‘human rights’ carries with it various possible understandings and, thus, can become the symbolic reference point for different actors with different—and also diverging—interests. The argument here is that this is an ongoing empirical process and not only a structurally given possibility. Heterogeneity and differentiation are the requirements for this process, both referring to actors and to varying norms that appear as parts of human rights (see Bonacker and Brodocz 2001). This process of emptying and, related to it, the integrative power of human rights roughly developed in three steps (see Bonacker 2003c). Thus, the General Declaration of Human Rights after World War II omitted a ranking of single articles. This allows various interpretations on the relation between different norms within the human rights regime. Also, a request for a diversion of further norms and conventions was institutionally connected to the Declaration of Human Rights.14 Thus, more conventions followed, such as the ‘Convention for the Suppression of the Trafficking of Persons and of the Exploitation and Prostitution of Others’ from 1951, which had its roots in the ‘Slavery Convention’ of 1927 and expanded its content to include the topic of human rights. In the beginning, this led to a process of strengthened norm setting and norm

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promotion, i.e. to a factual expansion of what can be connected with human rights as norms. In a second step, the human rights regime shifted its focus from norm setting to norm control (see Samhat 1999). The process of emptying the meaning of human rights goes along with this development, in so far as proceedings of norm control implicate an interpretation of norms referring to single cases. Thereby, the norms system is also expanded in respect to the meaning of individual norms, because it has to be decided in each case how far a specific constellation infringes upon a human rights norm. Accordingly, control does not simply mean norm application, but always means norm interpretation as well. The human rights regime further differentiates with this change to norm control because new actors become institutionalized as interpreters of human rights—such as various subcommittees, courts and commissions. Thirdly, the differentiation of a legalization by political organs, which obtain their legitimacy from the UN Charter as well as the legalization by multilateral contracts, indicates that with the legalization of human rights there is also a strengthening of the symbolism of human rights, i.e. the integrative power of human rights. Institutions like the UN Committee on Human Rights or the International Criminal Court—established with the Pact on Civil and Political Rights (1966)—interpret the meaning of human rights norms and by that these institutions contribute to the emptying process even if a given interpretation is fixed authoritatively, i.e. legally. Symbolic debordering not only takes place by processes of emptying the meaning of human rights as a symbol on the basis of legal decisions,15 but additionally, it turns out that human rights also serve (to varying degrees) as a reference point in political conflicts, which thereby become transnationalized and, thus, debordered. Various studies by Thomas Risse and Kathryn Sikkink and their collaborators (Risse, Ropp and Sikkink 1999; Finnemore and Sikkink 1998; Risse, Jetschke and Schmitz 2002) demonstrated that the reference to transnational human rights in political conflicts within a nation state often leads to domestic change. Thus, human rights support political mobilization in manifold ways. In order to prove their own legitimacy, human rights develop at the same time into a symbol that cannot be ignored. It is not that the extent of its empiric validity is decisive, but that it is not possible to ignore them rhetorically anymore. This can, for example, be seen when looking at the debate on a specific Asian tradition of human rights which gained prominence in the 1990s (see Moody 1996). The human rights regime has an integrative effect due to its function as an emptied symbol and because it is regarded as an expression of a transnational community. By referring to an emptied symbol, different actors can assume a consensus, without this consensus being factually available. In the first place, the transnational community is not based on emotions of affiliation, which are bound to the human rights symbol. ‘We can at best speak of a rudimentary global feeling of community based on universally recognized ideas (such as the idea of human rights)’ (World Society Research Group 2000:17; see also the introduction by Stetter). Emotions of affiliation already presuppose a community which is represented by emptied symbols. Vice versa, symbols serve to mobilize emotions and consent, too. By doing so, they strengthen the identification with collectives and make a decisive contribution to the establishment of identity. In that, the visibility of a social order is strongly connected with forms of community, because the

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latter is attached to emptied symbols, which represent the substance of an order and are readily available for identification. It can, thus, be concluded that the consequence of symbolic debordering by human rights is a decoupling of territoriality and community in world society.

Rebordering by human rights Debordering always implicates rebordering. The human rights regime is itself part of such a rebordering process because the institutionalization of a transnational human rights regime can be understood as a reaction to the decline of the nation state and the subsequent establishment of a new order. This order is located beyond the state and materializes in—and in some respect as—world society. However, the human rights regime is not the replacement of the nation state but rather stresses new additional borders. These new borders allow older borders to be put into perspective. Rebordering creates postnational forms of inclusion and symbolic integration—and, therefore, postnational conflicts and types of conflict settlements. In this postnational constellation, the human rights regime is not only a system of regulating conflicts and not only one decisive component for peace in world society. It also produces new types of conflicts. Three arguments are relevant in this context. (1) Phenomena of rebordering by human rights can be recognized, for example, when looking at regional borders that are drawn and controlled with a view to security. Thus, the European border regime can be understood as a mechanism that constitutes a European human rights area. However, it not only works as a reference for a new European constitution but, also, as a reference point for the constitution of a common European foreign and security policy (see Bernhard and Bonacker 2006a). A brief analysis will actually show that in Europe the human rights discourse is one way to symbolize European identity and to transform membership into a postnational form of inclusion (see Stetter 2004; Checkel 1999; Hansen 1999; Soysal 1996).16 This also means new transnational forms of conflict settlement within the European Union and the institutionalization of a new—European—contested border, as the debates on the EU membership of Turkey vividly show. Those conflicts are postterritorial in so far as a collective identity is not symbolized by a nation but by human rights, which are not territorially anchored. In that respect the EU is a good example of this debordering process. On the other hand, however, the EU is an example of a rebordering process, since it couples postnational inclusion with a European territory and a European identity, without leading to a congruency between these different borders as was the case during the national constellation. (2) In addition, the symbolic constitution of a community based on human rights implicates a border between those who are part of this community and those who are excluded from it, the so called ‘outlaw regimes’ (Rawls 2000:80). This leads to the legitimation problem in the ‘postnational constellation’ as described by Zangl and Zürn (2003). In such a postnational constellation of world politics, they argue, the recognition of states is no longer exclusively based on an inter-state community, but also on transnational actors within a transnational public sphere. One central aspect for the recognition—or for a delegitimization—of a state is the compliance with human rights

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provisions. If a transnational community substantiates a massive violation of human rights, a state may lose its international recognition. According to Zangl and Zürn (2003:258), violent interventions into a state in the case of (civil) war are—if there is a mobilization of a transnational public sphere—reasonable. Postterritorial conflicts arise under this condition of a transnational public sphere, if the human rights regime can successfully unfold its power of problematization and scandalization. As a consequence of the interaction between transnational and national public spheres the concerned state can lose its rights of sovereignty. Its ‘intrastate affairs’ become ‘transnational affairs’ which are able to justify interventions, at least potentially, beyond established rights of sovereignty. (ibid.: 259)17 Human rights are, therefore, a strong resource of legitimacy—and might be the only one in a postnational era—not because of their ability to regulate world politics and not (only) because they link world politics with law but, because of their function as an empty symbol that cannot be rejected.18 (3) Finally, the transnationalization of political and legal inclusion by human rights does not mean that borders are actually removed. Rather it directs attention to the difference between functional and territorial borders. The human rights regime is, in this respect, a way of decoupling the political and the legal system from their nation state framing. Thus, the human rights regime creates world society as an emergent social order. On this level, functional borders, for example between law and politics, structure national borders between nation states or, to put it in more theoretical terms, the principle of functional differentiation dominates the principle of segmentary differentiation. Hence, we can speak in this context of a functional rebordering as a result of processes of institutionalization of human rights beyond the nation state. While territorial conflicts were the typical form of conflict in the national constellation, the postnational constellation is faced with the challenge of postterritorial conflicts. Human rights play an important role in that context. On the one hand, they generate postterritorial conflicts and conflict settlements in the context of a global de- and rebordering process. In this regard, one can speak of an emergence of human rights related conflicts of world society. On the other hand, we find new postterritorial conflicts in a debordered world society, such as the infamous ‘new wars’ (Kaldor 1999; Münkler 2002), transnational terrorism or the emergence of war economies as a consequence of a debordered world economy (see Berdal and Malone 2000; Bonacker 2006a). The question then is whether a strong human rights regime can actually help to regulate those new conflicts and transform these conflicts—or, as a matter of fact, whether human rights sparkle the dynamics of postterritorial conflicts in a debordered world society. While this question cannot be answered here, it can at least be argued that the latter is the case in that human rights generally offer two possibilities, namely the possibility of cooperation and of transforming conflicts and the possibility of creating conflicts and causing them to escalate. For example, the intervention in Kosovo has shown that the accusation of

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human rights violations in a transnational public sphere can fundamentally change the conflict constellation. Hence, one strategy for conflict parties consists in linking their demands to transnational human rights. This is why Clifford Bob has argued that conflict parties may adopt strategies to raise their international profile and increase their chances of gaining support. Those groups best able to ‘pitch’ themselves to an international audience and ‘match’ their grievances to recognized abuses—often by framing localized conflicts, parochial demands and particularistic identities—are most likely to arouse transnational activism. The ‘pitch’ takes two main forms: direct lobbying of potential supporters and indirect promotion through media coverage (Bob 2002:136) Because human rights are an empty symbol, each party involved in the conflict can use them to legitimize its specific position in a conflict and try to gain the support of third parties.

Conclusion The process of debordering by human rights also means that political conflicts are becoming transnationalized—referring both to their settlement and to their processing. Thus, the practice of and debate on humanitarian intervention—whether military or nonmilitary—proves that the transnationalization of political conflicts by human rights leads to new conflict situations and forms of executing conflicts. Moreover, these new conflict settings no longer run in parallel to territorial borders. Humanitarian interventions are an example of the connection between debordering and conflict transformation. Also, those political conflicts in which transnational actors, such as Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch, function within the nation state context or in those instances in which domestic groups transnationalize domestic conflicts by a symbolic reference to human rights, can be defined as postterritorial conflicts (see Hasenclever 2000). Efforts at political mobilization of oppositional groups in countries such as Kenya or Iran—where the attempt is made to initiate political change by referring to human rights—are examples of this process. And finally, the institutionalization of an international jurisdiction, as well as agreements on human rights, can be viewed as an attempt to transnationalize conflict regulation, whereby the given political conflicts and their forms of processing are decoupled from their national contexts. It is at this stage that world society tries to react to the debordering of political conflicts. In this chapter it has been argued by referring to modern systems theory and the theory of hegemony by Laclau and Mouffe that the human rights regime is both a way of debordering and rebordering in world society. The focus on the latter process allows the dynamics of rebordering to be shown to be processes which are related to power and, by this, to conflict. Systems theory allows global change to be analyzed not only as a decline of the nation state, but as a transformation within and of world society, which also leads to the emergence of new political, state and non-state actors. As a systems theoretical

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approach focuses on communication, it neither privileges a particular set of actors nor a particular level of analysis (see introduction of this volume by Stetter). Thus, by putting systems theory and the theory of hegemony together, it can be shown that processes of de- and rebordering of political orders with different actor constellations become more important. On the one hand, the emergence of a transnational human rights regime decouples the congruency of functional, symbolic and territorial borders, as was typical for the national constellation. One main argument in this context pertains to the symbolic and integrative power of human rights as an empty symbol which represents world society on an emergent level. From this stage onwards, new postnational forms of inclusion and symbolic integration evolve. On the other hand, however, this development implies the need for rebordering processes and, as a result, the rise of new post-territorial conflicts (see also Bonacker 2006b). To see the human rights regime from the perspective of the theory of world society means that human rights are not just a transnational institution. It also entails the argument that human rights work as a symbolic reference point in the creation and transformation of conflicts and that they decouple conflicts from their traditional nation state bias. Consequently, human rights are part of a functional and symbolic process of debordering, in the course of which new postterritorial conflicts and instruments for conflict regulation develop. The human rights regime can take the form of both conflict settlement as well as conflict enhancement. In the latter case it then presents itself as a differentiated, postterritorial conflict system.

Notes 1 For an overview on conflict studies see Bonacker and Imbusch 2003. On different conflict theories in the social sciences see Bonacker 2005. For an anti-essentialist view on conflicts in general see Messmer 2003 and Messmer’s contribution in this volume; also Simon 2001. With regards to conflicts in IR see Campbell 1992; Jabri 1996; Diez 1996; Albert 1994; and for conflict theory in the context of cultural studies see, for example, Schlee 2004. 2 For an overview on different theories of world society see Wobbe 2000; Albert 2004a; Bonacker and Weller 2006; Albert and Stetter 2006. For an explicit reference to conflict theory in the context of world society studies, see the works of John Burton (1972; 1997), Lothar Brock (2003; 2000; Albert and Brock 2000) and Volker Bornschier (2002; Bornschier and Chase-Dunn 1999). 3 This is the key argument of poststructuralist social theories like Laclau’s theory of hegemony (see Laclau 1996; Laclau and Mouffe 1994). 4 For the debate on sociological neo-institutionalism see Rehberg (2002; 1995); Brodocz 2002; Bonacker 2000. For discourse theory see Howarth, Norval and Stavrakakis 2000; Brodocz 2003. 5 For systems theoretical analyses of processes of inclusion and exclusion see Luhmann 1995b; Bora 2002; Stichweh (1988; 1993); Bommes 2001. For a sociological perspective on membership as a mechanism of inclusion see Bös 2001a. 6 Hence, it can be argued that the symbolic representation of an order functions as a precondition of various possible positions—like demands, policies, identities—within a specific order. At the same time such a representation makes other positions illegitimate. 7 For a conflict analysis of the Cyprus conflict from a postmodern perspective, see Diez 2002. 8 Within a systems theory framework, Halfmann (2000; 2002) analyzes and refers to this tension as the ‘territorial trap’ of the modern nation state. For a critique of both a theoretical and methodological concentration on segmentary differentiation, see Beck 2004 who claims to develop a ‘methodological cosmopolitism’.

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9 For the thesis of such an institutional congruency of different—functional, symbolical and territorial—borders, see Albert 2002a; Albert, Jacobson and Lapid 2001; Hahn 2000; Bös 2001b. 10 See also the contribution by Schirmer in this book. 11 For the concept of ‘international society’ see the contributions of the English School in IR, for example, Bull 1977; Dunne 1998; for a sociologically informed critical discussion of this concept see Shaw 1994. 12 One could add that in modern societies we find something like quasi-members, for example immigrants who have (restricted) rights. It is up to a community to decide who is a full member and who thus gets full rights and who is just tolerated and has to fight a ‘struggle for recognition’ (see Honneth 1996). For the paradox of recognition, see also García Düttmann 2000. 13 The world polity approach of the Stanford School refers to significant change which the nation state as a global institution experiences through the emergence of a transnational human rights regime (see the introduction of this book by Stetter and also Koenig 2005). 14 In the context of human rights research this is often referred to as the ‘norm cascade’ (Finnemore and Sikkink 1998). 15 This process of emptying the meaning of human rights goes along with an authoritative interpretation in the global system of law, for example, by the International Criminal Court. The point is that these processes of an authoritative closure of interpretation by decisions generate at the same time the possibility of different interpretations of such a decision. For this, See Brodocz 2002:264. 16 And maybe this will become a central conflict line in the future, because if Europe will be identified with human rights (and, vice versa) this will weaken human rights as an empty symbol that represents world society. 17 Translation from the German original by the author. All subsequent translations from foreign language texts are made by the individual authors. 18 The interesting question here is whether this will work out in the future. The discussion on the legitimization of the ‘war on terror’ has shown that there are two antagonistic discourses which struggle for hegemony in this context, namely the ‘securitization’ discourse (Wæver 1995) and the human rights discourse.

3 Regions of conflict in world society The place of the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa Stephan Stetter Introduction1 The theory of world society in modern systems theory sets out from a basic claim that is of particular relevance to the disciplines of IR and conflict studies. World society is understood as the only societal system that exists nowadays on the globe (see Stichweh 2000b; Albert and Hilkermeier 2004). Thus, segmentary, symbolical, territorial or functional borders do not constitute the borders of different societies but must rather be understood as borders within world society. This argument rests on the observation that society is constituted by communication only and that the (actual or potential) reach of every single communication in the modern era is generally global. Thus, ‘modern systems theory does not base its analysis on the basic unit of intentional action (or actors), nor do, for that matter, state or a nationally conceived society serve as the central units of analysis. Rather, it operates on the basis of the observation that a communicatively constituted social reality’ forms the starting point for all analyses of world politics (Albert 2002b:297). It is on the basis of this argument that this chapter embarks on some theoretical reflections on the interrelationship between regions, spatial borders and conflicts in world society. From the outset, modern systems theory is characterized by a paradox. On the one hand, world society is internally integrated through communication as its basic operational unit. On the other hand, however, world society is internally fragmented by manifold borders, in particular territorial and functional borders. By discussing how such borders relate to territorial conflicts in world society, this chapter argues that insights from modern systems theory on bordering processes in world society can be a useful addendum to the literature on regional conflict dynamics in IR (see, in particular, Buzan and Wæver 2003). A systems theoretical starting point on regional conflict dynamics can be considered useful for at least two reasons. Firstly, as argued above, modern systems theory does not regard world society as internally homogenous or integrated. It is, therefore, particularly apt to avoid an all too positive evaluation of regionalization processes. Following this argument, Stichweh has emphasized that communication as the main operational unit of world society is ‘the fundament for the evolution of manifold and arbitrary forms of internal differentiation. In this context of high diversity and plurality, conflicts become probable, but can at the same time be defused through further differentiation’ (Stichweh 2000b:34). Secondly, communication, by definition, always includes the possibility of rejection, contradictions or opposition, thereby pointing to the ubiquitous possibility of social conflict arising in world society (Luhmann 1984; Messmer 2003 and Messmer in this volume; Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006).

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Instead of elaborating further on these key conceptualizations of world society— which can be studied elsewhere (Luhmann 1984, 1997a; Stichweh 2000b; Albert 1999)— this chapter discusses how insights from modern systems theory can contribute to the study of regional conflict dynamics in IR (see also Messmer 2003; Bonacker 2002a; Thiel 2003). This chapter is divided into three main sections. Section 1 looks at the relationship between territorial borders and conflicts in world society from an empirical perspective. It starts from a puzzle. Thus, empirical data on global media coverage from a Harvard Law School project suggests—rather counterintuitively—that in global media coverage, conflict intensity has only very limited effect on the media ‘visibility’ of states. At first sight, this observation challenges one of the key assumptions of many theoretical approaches on media reporting (and conflict studies), namely that mass media has a particular inclination to report on (violent) conflicts. However, as section 1 argues, an alternative reading of this empirical data set challenges the hypothesis that conflicts only have marginal impact on global media reporting. More specifically, it is argued that the state-centred focus of the Harvard Law School project—which it shares with more traditional approaches in IR—simply is the wrong ‘spatial lens’ to observe today’s territorial conflicts in world society. Thus, a recalibration of the empirical data shows that territorial conflicts in world society are quite visible in global media coverage, but only in the context of specific regional conflict clusters. In other words, it is not ‘states’ that media identifies as its main world societal reference point in the observation of conflicts, but rather ‘regions’ of world society. Empirically, the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region, on the one hand, and sub-Saharan Africa, on the other, stand out as the two main regional conflict clusters in global media coverage. Following this argument, section 2 then looks at the relationship between (territorial) borders and (regional) conflict clusters in world society from a theoretical perspective. First of all, this requires the theoretical status of ‘space’ and ‘borders’ to be addressed in greater detail. This is a particular challenge for modern systems theory, which sometimes tends to belittle the relevance of ‘space’ in world society. However, as will be argued in section 3, a greater focus on spatial differentiations in world society could indeed fruitfully be accommodated with modern systems theory. From an IR perspective, these theoretical arguments are also of relevance, since they offer a dynamic and fluid concept of territorial (i.e. regional) borders in world society that avoids treating regional entities as quasi-ontological units. Moreover, the theoretical arguments of section 2 on the dominance of regional conflict clusters in world society are also a contribution to the study of conflicts in IR. Thus, it theoretically underpins the shifting analytical focus in conflict studies from inter-state conflicts to intra-state and global conflicts as well as from national conceptualizations of security to the study of regional and global (in-) security regimes. Section 3 then takes a closer look at the two main regional conflict clusters identified in section 2. Firstly, it proposes some hypotheses on why the Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa are the two main regional conflict clusters in global media attention. Thus, it argues that both regions are characterized by considerable dynamics of exclusion which indeed spur manifold conflicts within both regions. While such dynamics of exclusion do exist in other regions of world society as well, it is, in particular, the perception of (actual or potential) global spill-overs emanating from ArabMiddle Eastern and sub-Saharan African conflict clusters—such as terrorism, diseases

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and migrant movements—that helps to account for why conflicts in these two regions receive such considerable global media attention. Moreover, this argument also points to the structurally-given world societal embeddedness of regional conflict clusters. Thus, regional borders are fluid and characterized by constant processes of debordering and rebordering. Moreover, the construction of distinct regional conflict clusters in global media attention (as well as political and academic discourses) also serves a specific function. Firstly, it allows a distinction to be drawn between regions of peace and conflict in international relations, with the EU serving as a central example of a regional peace cluster and the two aforementioned regions as the two main candidates for regional conflict clusters (Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006). Secondly, it is a powerful and ambivalent semantic tool in global securitization discourses. It is powerful, since it justifies tough political discourses with reference to (actual or potential) global threats seemingly emanating from these two regions. It is ambivalent, in so far as these securitization discourses sustain the perception of these two regions as highly conflictive in spite of manifold cooperative dynamics within these two regions.

Territory, conflicts and global media attention Spatial forms of differentiation are an omnipresent feature of how the world is observed in many societal contexts—and this is true for the discipline of IR as well. Thus, in many social spheres, the differentiation into ‘states’ still is, probably, the most usual way of observing the world. Moreover, this form of observation deeply permeates into everyday practices. Looking at any wall map or atlas, we see a world composed of states. The earth’s surface is divided into distinct state territories. Each is demarcated by a linear boundary, an edge dividing one sovereignty from the next. The division is accentuated when each territory is blocked out in a separate color from neighboring states, implying that its interior is a homogenous space, traversed evenly by state sovereignty. Our world is a jigsaw of territorial states, and we take this picture for granted. (Biggs 1999:374). What is interesting about this state-centred observation of the world is that such (mental) maps represent no formal difference between states. Save for territorial size, states are depicted in random colours, with no hierarchy between them. Cultural, economic, religious, military or political differences do thus become formally ‘invisible’, while the relevance of state sovereignty becomes accentuated. To pick but one example, the United States (US), Kazakhstan, Peru, Morocco, Iran, Norway, Zambia and India are depicted in political maps in the same colour and, except for territorial size, an uninformed observer would not be able to reach any conclusions on power, wealth or other social characteristics of these states (see www.oxfordcarto.com/promo/s_polit.htm). Hence, this form of representation allows it to be emphasized that all these states are sovereign spatial entities in world society, while at the same time deemphasizing the obvious differences between them. However, the factual knowledge of manifold differences

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between states runs, of course, in parallel to this formal observation of equal status. This can well be exemplified when looking at the differences in the way in which mass media reports on different states, for example, when it comes to the impact of economic wealth, population size—or the occurrence of conflicts on media ‘visibility’ of states. In this context, an analysis of global media attention profiles (GAP), which has been compiled by scholars from a Harvard Law School project offers a very useful data set for further elaborating on how such differences affect the ‘visibility’ of states (Zuckerman 2003). The GAP-project analyzed English-language media reporting from selected news agencies on all states in the world for the period from 1996 to 2001. The objective of this study was to generate hypotheses on which factors influence the extent to which a state becomes ‘visible’ in global media coverage. The results are highly relevant for the disciplines of IR and conflict studies. Thus, while economic size and population size correlate most closely with the degree of media coverage, the occurrence of conflicts had only minimal effect on global media reporting. Consequently, the data suggests that the richer or the more populated a state is, the higher its visibility in global media coverage. The majority of English-language media—such as CNN, Reuters, The New York Times and The Washington Post—tends to report on richer states (in terms of GDP), while reporting on states decreases the lower GDP becomes. Generally speaking coverage is concentrated in Western Europe, the Middle East and Southeast Asia, with good coverage in the large economies of China, Japan, Mexico and Canada. There is very little coverage in most of Africa […], in Central Asia, Eastern Europe and in most of Central and South America (the large economies of Mexico, Brazil and Argentina are exceptions). (ibid.: 13). The BBC has somewhat of an awkward position among English-language media since the ‘visibility’ of states does correlate most closely with population size, while economic factors ‘show no meaningful correlation’ with story distribution (ibid.: 22). Thus, countries with large population but small economies, such as many African or SouthAsian nations, receive much greater coverage on the BBC than in other English-language media. Rightly or wrongly, this is regarded by the authors of the GAP-study as a heritage of British imperialism with the BBC having ‘an editorial policy that mandates regular coverage of nations formerly in the British empire. Many of these nations have large populations but small GDPs’ (ibid.). To summarize, knowledge on GDP or population size offers a good first indication on whether a state receives wide global media attention or not. However, these two factors do not account for all variance. Thus, the correlation coefficient between GDP and global media coverage has been calculated with R2=0.69 (CNN, 1996–2001), while correlation between population size and media reporting figured with R2=0.67 for the BBC in the same period. In their quest for other factors that influence global media coverage, the authors of the study turned to violent conflicts. They were guided by the common-sensical expectation, that the occurrence of conflict increases a state’s visibility in media coverage. The authors of the GAP-study consequently looked at 29 states which have ‘hosted’ a violent conflict in the period 1996–2001, thereby including both inter-state and intra-state

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conflicts. Their result comes as a surprise. Thus, rather counterintuitively, the empirical data suggests that ‘hosting a conflict increases a nation’s visibility, but not as much as might be expected’ (ibid.: 23). Thus, for only five out of 29 states did the ‘hosting’ of a violent conflict double the media visibility in comparison to what could be expected from each country’s GDP. When compared to the ‘expected visibility’ that resulted from population size, the ‘hosting’ of a conflict doubled media reporting for only 14 out of 29 states. In other words, conflicts do not ‘guarantee’ the same visibility as other factors such as GDP or population size. In statistical terms, ‘hosting’ a violent conflict increases the visibility of a state compared to other states of similar (economic or population) size. However, a state without a conflict but with high GDP or huge population figures is still, according to this data, more likely to receive wider global media coverage than a conflict state with small GDP or small population size. This argument is at first sight a puzzle, for the common-sensical expectation that media tends to focus on conflicts. However, an alternative reading of the empirical data set challenges the claim of the authors of the GAP-study that conflicts only have limited impact on global media reporting, thereby confirming the argument that there is indeed a close linkage between media visibility and conflicts (see for example Taleb 2004). On this basis, table 3.1 presents a recalibration of the data set and groups the ten most visible ‘conflict countries’ in CNN and BBC reporting for the period 1996–2001. The percentages listed in each cell relate to the difference of actual visibility in media coverage on a specific country compared to the expected visibility according to either GDP (column 2) or population size (column 3) of this state. Thus, column 2 presents those countries in which the ‘hosting’ of a conflict had the highest impact on media coverage of this country compared to the ‘expected coverage’ on the basis of each country’s GDP. Then, column 3 lists those countries for which a conflict increased a country’s visibility compared to the expected visibility resulting from population size (Table 3.1). What immediately comes to the fore is that the states listed in table 3.1 belong in their great majority to two specific regions in world society. Firstly, the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region (Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, Pakistan and Turkey, including adjacent Russia with its conflict with the Muslim population in Chechnya (on the term Arab-Middle Eastern region see Perthes 2000)). Secondly, sub-Saharan Africa (Burundi, DR Congo, Kenya, Rwanda and Sierra Leone). This recalibration of the data set suggests that the state-centred focus of the Harvard Law School project—which it shares with more traditional approaches in IR—simply is the wrong ‘spatial lens’ to observe media coverage on territorial conflicts in world society. Thus, table 3.1 shows that territorial conflicts are quite visible in global media coverage, but particularly in the context of specific regional conflict clusters on which media reports. In other words, it is not ‘states’ that media identifies as its main world societal reference point in the observation of conflicts, but rather ‘regions’ of world society. On this basis, the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region, on the one hand, and sub-Saharan Africa, on the other, stand out as the two main regional clusters. And, they are observed by media as two distinct ‘conflict regions’.

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Table 3.1 Impact of conflict on global media coverage (compiled from Zuckerman 2003) Rank Conflict state (increase in media reporting compared to expected attention rate according to GDP)

Conflict state (increase in media reporting compared to expected attention rate according to population size)

1

Yugoslavia (+930%)

Israel (+1710%)

2

Afghanistan (+890%)

Iraq (+700%)

3

Iraq (+570%)

Yugoslavia (+590%)

4

Rwanda (+450%)

Afghanistan (+450%)

5

Sierra Leone (+440%)

Russia (+220%)

6

Pakistan (+360%)

Philippines (+70%)

7

Israel (+330%)

Pakistan (+70%)

8

Dem. Rep. of Congo (+240%)

Iran (+50%)

9

Burundi (+240%)

Turkey (+40%)

10

Kenya (+200%)

Rwanda (+30%)

Territory and conflict from a world society perspective In order to discuss how modern systems theory can contribute to the debate on regional conflict clusters in IR, this section comments on the theoretical status of ‘space’, ‘territory’ and ‘regions’ in modern systems theory. It argues that while these concepts have often met relative neglect in modern systems theory, its theoretical ‘tool box’ nevertheless provides useful instruments for the debate on the status of territorial borders in the period of globalization, in general, and regional (in-) security regimes in world society, in particular. Two main arguments are laid out in this section. Firstly, the communicative fundaments of modern systems theory turn the spotlight on the fluid and dynamic status of territorial borders as social borders. Thus, territorial borders are constructed through communication. Therefore, borders between different regions in world society cannot be regarded as static distinctions with ontological status, but should rather be observed as contingent and ongoing bordering processes. Secondly, these bordering processes necessitate a focus on the precise mechanisms that allow a distinction to be made between different regions in world society, i.e. the modes of observation that allow a specific region to be identified as being distinct from others. This section argues that it is in particular the interrelationship between functional borders and patterns of inclusion/ exclusion that provides the background for the emergence of such different regions in world society. At first sight, modern systems theory might not appear as the prime candidate for a proper theoretical underpinning of regionalization processes in world society. Thus, as far as borders within world society are concerned, modern systems theory identifies

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functional differentiation rather than territorial distinctions ‘as the main pattern which characterizes the contemporary stage of societal evolution’ (Albert 2002b:297). Hence, not spatial divides, but functional borders between social systems such as politics, economics, law, science, arts, sports, religion and others are considered as the most relevant borders in world society. Notwithstanding this argument, ‘social systems certainly can develop a preference for their borders being demarcated by physical divides in order to make their borders better identifiable and robust’ (Stichweh 2000b:185). However, they can only do so in order to amplify the primacy of functional borders vis-à-vis territorial borders, on the one hand, or the clear distinction between different functional systems, on the other. Seen from this perspective, the seemingly robust nature of political borders between different states in world society is not an argument in favour of the primacy of territorial differentiation but, rather, accentuates the autonomy of politics as a distinct social system with its own forms of internal differentiation. Thus, while political borders allow a distinction to be made between different states or between other different political entities, such territorial borders demarcate spatial areas that all share a key functional characteristic, namely the execution of political power within each territory. Thus, political borders demarcate different territorial units but, at the same time, foster the functional border between the world of politics and other social realms. Stichweh summarizes this view as follows. ‘[Functional] systems are not bounded by space but are characterized by an entirely different, namely strictly internal form of borders’; thus, in modern systems theory ‘the concern for the relevance of space is […] reformulated as the concern for the borders of social systems’ (ibid.: 184). This argument might initially be misconceived as a blunt rejection of the relevance of territorial borders in a globalized world but it might also offer the point of departure for a fruitful dialogue between modern systems theory, IR and conflict studies on the ongoing relevance of territory in world politics. This requires, firstly, a clarification of the status of spatial borders in world society and, secondly, a discussion of the relevance of regions and regional conflict structures in a globally interconnected world (Wimmer 2002b). While it is true that modern systems theory has by and large been ‘rather silent as to the relations which territoriality bears to the concept of “space”’ (Albert 2004c:22), its focus on world society renders the issue of territoriality nevertheless central to many of its core theoretical assumptions. In particular, this can be seen with regard to concepts at the intersection of systems theory and IR, namely bordering processes, regionalization dynamics as well as patterns of inclusion/exclusion in world society. As this section argues, a linkage of these three concepts is particularly useful for the study of regional (in-) security clusters in world society (see Albert and Hilkermeier 2004; Bonacker 2003c and 2006; Stetter 2005; Nassehi 2004). Of course, such an endeavour necessitates that modern systems theory gives up its ‘dogma of causal dependence of space on societal communication’ (Stichweh 2000b:192) and focuses instead on the communicational impact of space and spatial distinctions on society (see also Kuhm 2000). Giving up this dogma might be less difficult than could be assumed given the reluctance with which modern systems theory, at least in the writings of Luhmann, has incorporated the notion of ‘space’ into its theoretical framework. A possible point of departure is that modern systems theory has always been keen to emphasize that the diagnosis ‘world society’ cannot be equated with the disappearance of borders. Quite the

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opposite, world society is characterized by manifold internal borderlines. However, in contrast to more traditional approaches in IR and other social science disciplines, modern systems theory has a different understanding of what primarily constitutes a ‘border’ in world society. Thus, as has been argued above, functional borders between social systems, rather than territorial borders between different spatial entities, are viewed as the main type of borders in world society. This chapter does not attempt to further embark on the somewhat fruitless question whether territorial or functional borders are more relevant in world society. Rather, it tries to shift the discussion from the ontological level (what is a border) to the functional level (how are borders constituted and to what effect). This starting point is crucial in order to overcome a static understanding of borders that fails to reflect upon the social processes that constantly create, sustain and change borders in the first place. From a systems theoretical perspective, this point of departure requires an identification of the communicative processes through which borders become constructed and deconstructed. Of course, such a perspective on communicative bordering dynamics in world society can also be attained from the basis of other constructivist approaches (see also World Society Research Group 2000). Thus, various constructivist approaches would agree that ‘it is the process of bordering, rather than the border line per se, that has universal significance in the ordering of society’ (Newman 2003:15). In order not to swipe away the possible value added of modern systems theory to such bordering debates, it is important to recall that, in systems theory, society is ordered by communication only. In other words, all borders and distinctions in world society come into being through communicative processes—and these processes shape the social construction of both territorial and functional borders. Therefore, it seems to be particularly fruitful to take a closer look at the intersection between the various functional and territorial borders in world society, rather than focusing on only one of these two types of borders. By doing so, ‘substantial modifications in the interrelationship between territory and states as an increasing incongruence of political, economic, and social spaces’ come to the fore (World Society Research Group 2000:10). Thus, rather than losing its significance per se, territory becomes a crucial feature in processes of functional bordering in world society, with each functional sphere being characterized by different types of internal territorial divisions. Thus, spatial borders of regions often look different when observed through the lenses of different functional spheres. These complex communicative bordering dynamics between functional and territorial borders also form the pretext for any conceptualization of what constitutes a ‘region’ in world society. Two main conclusions stem from the aforementioned arguments on bordering processes in world society. Firstly, theories of regionalization must accommodate both the territorial and the functional dimensions of bordering dynamics in world society. Thus, rather than expecting clear-cut borders between different regions in world society—which would be the case if the territorial differentiations within different functional systems would all coincide across these various social spheres—regional borders are likely to take a different spatial shape in different social contexts. The emergence of regional differentiations in world society hence ‘produces within different functional systems different borders for the different regions’ (Stichweh 2000b:200). Moreover, these manifold regional borders are not static lines of distinction but are subject to constant communicative bordering practices that either do or undo these spatial

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distinctions. Secondly, in order to be recognized as a distinct region in world society there needs to be at least some congruence between territorial division within different functional spheres without amounting to a complete overlap between identical spatial borders across various functional spheres. This latter example would indeed be a problematic empirical reality for modern systems theory. Thus, if ‘regional differentiation assumes a primacy over a functional differentiation of world society, then the empirical validity of the very concept of world society might be put into doubt and, arguably, be replaced by a view of the global system which starts from the premise of a continued existence of many societies. These may then very well interact, yet would not have led to the emergence of world society as one social system’ (Albert 2004c:23). Yet, against the background of global communicative interconnectedness and global structures that can be found in societal communication throughout the world, theories that postulate such different regional societies face certain difficulties. Thus, they would have to show that the regional level determines developments at the global level rather than global structures permeating into (and adapting to) regional contexts. While this view could indeed be accommodated with theories of power and hierarchy, for example theories of global centre-periphery relations, another issue seems to be more problematic. Hence, in order to be theoretically compelling, a theory of regional societies would also have to show that the regional borders established within each of these various social spheres coincide with all other social borders within the same regional entity. Otherwise regional borders would by definition be overlapping, fluid and dynamic, thereby limiting the structural ability of distinct regions to condition strictly regional dynamics on the semantic and structural levels. Against the background of these remarks, it seems, indeed, more promising to conceptualize regions from the outset as regions within world society. By arguing that ‘there is a structural coupling of society with certain spatial differences’ (Stichweh 2000b:190), it becomes possible to assume that there can be some congruence between territorial and functional borders in several social spheres, leading to the emergence of distinct regions in world society, while at the same time viewing the borders between these regions as incongruent, fluid and dynamic. Such an argument also makes sense logically, since the observation of different regions is only possible from the viewpoint of difference, i.e. the distinction between the two sides of the border. To summarize, since ‘regional differences can only be comprehended in their connection with processes of globalization’ on the level of different functional systems (Kuhm 2000:341), regions in world society cannot be separated from global dynamics in different social systems. Rather, regions emerge ‘on the basis of regional densities of contact which allow the fostering of the interrelationship between these social systems and thereby create new possibilities for interconnectedness in a context of ongoing internal differentiation of world society’ (ibid.: 338). Seen from that perspective, spatial distinctions are an important division in world society but do not ‘signify the boundaries of social systems’ (Albert 2004c:23) or indeed, the boundaries of different categorical units. However, while communication in all social systems is structurally global in its reach, forms of structural coupling between different social systems in distinct social, temporal and spatial contexts can, nevertheless, produce regionally distinct variations of functional differentiation. ‘It can be argued that the emergence of regions in the different parts of the world can be explained by the varying

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forms of structural coupling between functional systems’ (Stichweh 2000b:217). What might thus appear as initially small social differences in the adaptation of specific global semantics and structures in different spatial contexts, might result in ‘the stabilization and the increase of regional differences across the borders of social systems’ (Kuhm 2000:38). This is, of course, but another take on systems theory’s major claim that world society necessarily is and, will be, internally fragmented and that ‘it is in particular the dominant pattern of functional differentiation which allows regional differences to become consolidated’ (Luhmann 1997a:810). This focus on internal fragmentations in world society is also where modern systems theory becomes interesting for the study of conflicts in IR. Thus, the complex linkages between global dynamics on the functional level with regional ‘conditionalizations’ render extremely unequal developments within world society likely. The regions, therefore, find themselves distant from a (world) societal equilibrium and have within this context the chance to decide on their own fate, which is, however, not a micro-form of functional differentiation. Only: if there was not a primacy of functional differentiation on the level of world society, all this would be different, and no region can escape this law’. (ibid.: 811–12) In other words, ‘extreme inequalities can be analyzed as forms of internal differentiation’ of world society on both the spatial and the functional dimensions (Stichweh 2000b:32– 33). Such regional inequalities become particularly visible when they affect regional patterns of inclusion/exclusion, i.e. the way in which social systems address (or not address) persons. Regional variations in patterns of inclusion and exclusion, thus, put in place ‘a source of diversity and of perceptions of un-simultaneity in world society’ (ibid.: 218). This linkage between regionalization as a process of spatial bordering, on the one hand, and regional patterns of inclusion and exclusion on the functional level, on the other, also brings to the fore a connective disposition on both the regional level—between those included and those excluded—and also the global level, since regions always remain structurally embedded in world society, thereby strengthening perceptions of global un-simultaneity. Arguably, it is, in particular, when patterns of inclusion and exclusion accumulate across various social spheres and affect specific social groups within a distinct spatial context that this has a more dramatic effect on society. Thus, if ‘wide parts of the population are constantly excluded from societal participation’ in several social spheres (Kuhm 2000:342), this, most likely, will feed back negatively into society, both on the regional level but, due to various forms of global interconnectedness, on the level of world society as well. From a conflict theoretical perspective, such regions with accumulated patterns of exclusion are, thus, prime candidates for intensified social conflicts. Moreover, they are likely to be distinguished from other regions, this bordering process ultimately resulting in the observation of distinct regions of conflict in world society (on the linkage between exclusion and conflict from a systems theoretical

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perspective see also Stichweh 2004). The following section will now assess whether these arguments can be applied to account for the observation of the Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa as world society’s two main regional conflict clusters in global media coverage.

Regional conflict clusters in world society As has been shown above, the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa are the two main regional conflict clusters in global media coverage. The previous section has then argued, from a theoretical perspective, that there might be a linkage between the observation of such regional conflict clusters and region-specific dynamics of exclusion. Of course, exclusion is a global phenomenon—and modern systems theory argues that exclusion is a necessary component in a functionally differentiated world (see in detail Luhmann 1997a). In fact, social systems such as politics, law, economics, science and others continuously produce exclusion and social inequalities. Yet, at the same time, exclusion often relates to specific functional systems only, thereby limiting exclusion to specific social spheres. For example, third country nationals in the EU might not be addressed by the political system as voters, but they are nevertheless included in society in various other social spheres, for example, as consumers or producers in the economic system, teachers or pupils in the educational system, lecturers or students in science or as goal-getters or supporters of a team in one of Europe’s major football leagues (see Werron 2005). In such settings of partial exclusion, the conflict potential for society at large, stemming from exclusion, remains contained. The linkage between exclusion and intense societal conflict is not, therefore, automatic but depends on several factors. Thus, such patterns of (massive) exclusion must become part of wider societal communication since ‘the conflict generating potential of exclusion depends on its explicit communication in the form of a “no”’ between Ego and Alter’ (Stichweh 2004:356). In that context, an intense societal conflict becomes more likely if there are accumulated patterns of exclusion in various social spheres, which allow a clear distinction between excluded and included persons, thus producing a strict binary distinction between these two sides (Luhmann 1984; Messmer 2003). In other words, conflict identities between Self and Other must be produced, with both sides opposing each other, either on the issue or the identity level (see Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006). How can these theoretical remarks be related to the empirical insights set out above? The main question to be asked on this basis is whether the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa are characterized in any way by such patterns of exclusion and conflict. Thus, are there regionspecific dynamics of exclusion that generate distinct conflict clusters in these two regions? Of course, this chapter cannot present a fully elaborated empirical account of exclusionary dynamics in these two regions. Yet, in the literature on regional conflict dynamics there is some indication that such patterns of region-specific exclusion contribute to political instability and conflicts in both regions. At first sight it might be surprising to rely on patterns of exclusion in order to account for regional conflict dynamics in the Arab-Middle Eastern region—a region which seems to be primarily characterized by intense border conflicts (for example, Israel-Palestine,

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Syria-Lebanon, Israel-Syria, Morocco-Western Sahara, Kurds in Turkey and Iraq, etc.) and ideological conflicts (Zionism versus Arab nationalism; secular versus religious fundamentalists, conflicts between Sunnis and Shiites etc.). However, when looking at the social structures that underlie these and other conflicts in the region (see Buzan and Wæver 2003), there is an indication that an accumulation of region-specific patterns of exclusion plays a prominent role in regional conflict clusters. Interestingly, such a linkage between dynamics of exclusion in the Arab-Middle Eastern region and regional conflict clusters has been a central theme in the Arab Human Development Reports (AHDR), a highly influential series of reports on political development in this region from the level of the United Nations (UN). Thus, the third AHDR argues that ‘there are legal, economic and political structures within Arab societies [sic!] that continue to prevent Arabs from enjoying rights and freedoms’ (Arab Human Development Report 2004:III). What the reports outline, in particular, is that these restrictions in various social spheres have resulted in region-specific patterns of exclusion on at least three levels. Thus, Arabs are not addressed as citizens in most of their respective political systems and, if they were, there might be certain religious or ethnic groups that are excluded from citizenship and rights’ (ibid.: III). Secondly, many Arab women are excluded in various social systems (for example lack of legal protection, lack of access to knowledge, etc.) and, thirdly, many Arabs lack access to knowledge at both the school and the university levels. (ibid.: I) The authors of the AHDR, all of them Arabs, conclude that if such patterns of exclusion, that accumulate across various social spheres and that often affect specific social groups at the expense of others (women, religious or ethnic groups), continue, ‘intensified societal conflict is likely to follow’ (ibid.: 19). Such dynamics of exclusion are, however, not only a problem of Arab states in the region. They can equally be found in non-Arab states in this regional setting, such as the examples of Iran, Afghanistan or Pakistan illustrate (on the linkage between nationalist exclusion and ethnic conflict see Wimmer 2002a). Moreover, they also affect developments in the two democratic states in the region, Turkey and Israel. Both states are characterized by ethnic divisions within that produce a systemic exclusion across several social spheres of these countries’ ethnic minority population, i.e. Turkish Kurds and Israeli Palestinians (see also Smooha and Hanf 1992 on the concept of ‘ethnocracy’ for the case of Israel). In the case of sub-Saharan Africa the linkage between accumulated patterns of exclusion and regional conflict dynamics has been emphasized in a wide literature on ‘state failure’ in this region after the end of the colonial period (see Bayart 1989; Reno 1997). Thus, dynamics of exclusion that result from ‘economic reproduction units on the wider family level, the frame of reference of ethnic identity and the politic logic of the neo-patrimonial state as the central structures in the post-colonial states of Africa form at the same time the deeper dynamics of war in these societies’ (Schlichte 1998:272). These region-specific structures inhibit inclusionary social dynamics in sub-Saharan Africa, for example, in the political and economic spheres. In the context of the fragmented social structures of the neo-patrimonial African state, fierce conflicts on access to social

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resources have emerged in many sub-Saharan states. This struggle has often led to ‘undifferentiated repressive reaction of regimes against ever-wider parts of the population that was left with the choice of flight, victimization or participation in armed conflicts’ (ibid.: 274–75). Such dynamics of accumulated and undifferentiated exclusion further intensified in the context of the so-called ‘new wars’ in sub-Saharan conflicts since the 1990s, being, inter alia, characterized by war-economies and the monopolization of violence in the hands of warlords (Kaldor 1999). At its most radical stage, these dynamics of exclusion even amounted to the permanent exclusion of people, as during the genocide in Rwanda. It is against this background of massive regional dynamics of exclusion that it can be argued that if it has been the crisis of the African state that has defined the security problem in Africa during the decolonisation era, it may well be the absence of the state or any other form of political order higher than warlordism that defines it for much of the continent in the coming decades. (Buzan and Wæver 2003:255) While these short remarks on the region-specific linkages between patterns of exclusion and conflict in the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa account for the intensity of social conflict in these two regions, they do not explain why both regions receive such considerable global media attention. In other words, why are other parts of the world interested in these conflicts? In fact, patterns of massive exclusion and social conflict exist in the rest of the world as well, for example in favellas in Central and Latin America or slums in North American cities and Southeast Asia. While a satisfactory answer to this question would depend on a more thorough empirical analysis of global media dynamics, a reasonable hypothesis could be that the global perception of these two regions as conflict regions stems from the observation of global ‘threats’ in global media coverage which, over time, become semantically and structurally linked with these two regions (see also Beck 2003). Thus, the perception of (actual or potential) spill-overs from these two regions—such as religious fundamentalism and religiously motivated terrorism in the case of the wider Arab-Middle East or the global diffusion of diseases, such as HIV/AIDS as well as the movement of migrants from African conflict areas to Western states, in the case of sub-Saharan Africa—might be the reason for the intense observation of conflict in these two regions in global media coverage. When referring to regional conflict clusters in world society, it must be emphasized again that this chapter has focused on how these two regions are constructed in global media coverage. Thus, the identification of the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa as world society’s two main regional conflict clusters—whether justified or not—is a process of communicative territorial bordering in global media and other social spheres. This argument thus shifts the focus to the function which the construction of distinct regional conflict clusters serves. It helps to ‘make sense of the world’ by drawing a clear spatial distinction between areas of peace and cooperation, on the one hand, and areas of conflict, on the other (Richmond 2005). When looking at various regionalization-literatures in IR, such a tendency can indeed be observed, for example, with European integration serving as the main reference point for a successful

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regional peace cluster (see Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006) and the Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa, arguably, as the main regional conflict clusters. Seen from a political perspective, such regionalization discourses are a quite powerful, but also, ambivalent, semantic tool. They are powerful, since they structurally underpin a considerable securitization of relations between these two regions and the rest of the world, as can, for example, be seen with regard to the rhetoric of war (‘war on terror’/‘war on poverty’) that addresses (actual or potential) global threats that nevertheless become semantically linked to these two regions. But, such discourses are also highly ambivalent in so far as they sustain the perception of these two regions as highly connective in spite of manifold cooperative dynamics within these two regions. These cooperative and peaceful dynamics in the wider Arab-Middle Eastern region and sub-Saharan Africa thus often become the ‘blind spot’ in global media coverage on these two regions (see Stetter 2005).

Conclusion The discussion in this chapter on the linkage between modern systems theory and the study of (regional) conflict dynamics in IR has attempted to flag up possible points of fruitful encounter between both sides. Thus, rather than presenting a fully developed model of how a systems theoretical observation of conflicts in world society could look like, this chapter has drawn from a systems theoretical take on three key theoretical concepts—namely bordering dynamics, regionalization processes and patterns of exclusion/inclusion—and has discussed how these concepts can be related usefully to debates in IR on regional (in-) security regimes. Moreover, by relating these arguments to data on global media coverage, it has shown contours of the empirical applicability of modern systems theory. Such an encounter between modern systems theory and IR is a challenge to both sides. As far as modern systems theory is concerned, this chapter has explained in detail how the study of territorial conflicts in world society challenges the relative neglect which the concepts of ‘space’ and ‘territory’ have often received in modern systems theory. With a view to IR and other social science disciplines, it is, in particular, the polycontextual modes of observation of modern systems theory that pose a challenge to the way in which these disciplines observe the world. Thus, the argument in modern systems theory that functional borders are the main internal form of differentiation in world society undermines the persuasiveness of conceptualizations that assume clear-cut borders between territorial entities in the world. This renders all attempts to turn regions into neatly separated units a somewhat hopeless endeavour. In other words, the way in which we observe ‘regions’ not only depends on our standpoints as observers (all constructivists would agree with that) but also on the specific functional context in which communication takes place. Thus, the internal territorial divisions in different social systems can be expected to be incongruent and sometimes even contradictory rather than overlapping. This chapter has attempted to show that these mutual challenges in the encounter between modern systems theory and IR must not result in a rejection of one of the two sides. Rather, both sides could profit from increased mutual observation. With its focus

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on regional conflict clusters in world society, this chapter has made a first step in that direction and has related these insights to a subject that has been little discussed in modern systems theory but which surely has tremendous impact on the evolution of world society on both the regional and the global level.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Annegret Bendiek and Oliver P.Richmond for their helpful comments on this chapter.

4 Theories of world society and war Luhmann and the alternatives Klaus Schlichte

Introduction Since World War II, organized mass violence has been noteworthy, in particular, by its absence in Western Europe and in North America. Since 1945, large-scale violence in Western countries is remembered and narrated rather than experienced, and it is not much different with other forms of physical violence. Thus, war is discussed in Western countries mostly as something absent, something to be avoided at almost any cost. This also holds true for most of the period of the Cold War in which the threat of nuclear warfare was virulent. Yet, surprisingly, the study of organized violence, of war as an empirical phenomenon, was neglected by many social theories of that period. Modern systems theory, which started to develop in the 1970s and 80s, is not alone in this regard. Also, modern systems theory tends to understand modernity as a historical stage in which violence no longer plays any significant role. Therefore, it is not surprising that in the writings on war, systems theory hardly plays a role (see Imbusch 1999). While violence has only a marginal place in modern systems theory, for war, the situation is even worse. Apart from some remarks in Niklas Luhmann’s major writings, modern systems theory has not dealt with the issue. The programme still has to be written; research has just begun (Stichweh 2001). Probably due to the world historical timing of its origin, the historical ubiquity of violent politics was not that visible for this theoretical stream. At the same time, however, there has been a growing amount of empirical research on war and organized violence from other theoretical and empirical perspectives. Two larger non-scientific developments account for this trend. Partly, it stems from the demands of state actors, which want to build up systemic knowledge on a phenomenon constantly threatening established political order. But research activities are also, in part, connected to another political ambition. This is the field of ‘peace research’, established in the West on the basis of the fundamental belief that the accumulation of scientific knowledge on this subject could help to overcome organized violence. In this context, scholars from different academic disciplines entered the study of war. Prominent among them are, inter alia, those scholars who set up the so-called ‘empirical record’ of warfare.1 Despite numerous differences in operational definitions and in methods of establishing data, research on war has resulted in a couple of shared observations that will be used as a starting point for this chapter. The intention of this chapter is not, however, to discuss empirical questions related to the study of war. Instead, it tries to sketch out the theoretical challenges that any theory of war faces. This allows an assessment of the

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scope and the limits of a theoretical approach, such as modern systems theory, that is based on an overarching theoretical framework, when dealing with war and violence in international relations. The second section of this chapter then develops some hypotheses about further needs and lacunae in the theoretical debate on organized violence. The third section then compares modern systems theory and its concept of organized violence with a research programme which was developed at the University of Hamburg since the beginning of the 1990s and which can be characterized as a structural/historical version of modernization theory. It draws mainly on authors of classical sociology and is, therefore, a legitimate candidate for such a comparison, as modern systems theory claims to surpass and replace these older theoretical approaches. This chapter argues that both approaches share some important similarities. Firstly, both are systemic, comprehensive social theories and secondly, they both put the concept of world society at the centre of their respective analyses, although they define this concept in a rather different way. Thus, they differ fundamentally when it comes to the theoretical location of violence in both theories. This chapter argues that the major challenge for modern systems theory is to find a coherent explanation for the historical distribution of warfare—something which, so far, it has not yet done.

Observations on war in world society The differentiation of social sciences has led to a multitude of approaches and schools in the study of war. Sociologists, psychologists, anthropologists, legal scholars and political scientists have been investigating organized violence and within each discipline there are countless attempts at coming to terms with the diversity of empirical phenomena and theoretical challenges posed by this subject. In that context, studies that cross the boundaries between the established disciplines are seldom and mutual deafness is the eternal complaint when scholars from different disciplines studying war meet in conferences. Despite this lack of inter-disciplinary research and communication, each discipline has developed valuable insights into the study of war. For example, in the discipline of IR there is general consensus on the main empirical developments in warfare after 1945 (see Holsti 1996; Henderson and Singer 2000; Wallensteen and Sollenberg 2000; Pfetsch and Rohloff 2000; Gantzel and Schwinghammer 2000). Five major hypotheses could probably be drawn from a comparative reading of these various studies. 1. A growing number of wars. The number of wars fought per year has grown significantly since the end of World War II and reached a peak in the early 1990s. Since 1993, the number of wars has oscillated on a somewhat lower level, i.e. between 35 and 40 wars fought per year on average. Operational definitions vary between different studies and so does the actual number of wars counted per year. However, there is a general acknowledgment that this growth is largely due to the fact that wars tend to last ever longer. Violent conflicts such as those in Colombia, Angola or Chad lasted for several decades and in other instances, warfare is only interrupted by short periods of less violent politics which, however, are unworthy of the name ‘peace’.

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2. Predominance of intra-state wars. The huge majority of wars after 1945 were intrastate wars. In comparison to what is known about the global distribution of war in earlier periods, the share of inter-state warfare has decreased dramatically. Roughly two-thirds of wars after 1945 have been purely intra-state in character, while the share of inter-state warfare has decreased steadily. The year 1993 was the first year after 1945 in which no inter-state war occurred (ibid.). 3. War occurs in the periphery. According to quantitative data, after World War II more than 90 per cent of wars have taken place in the regions of the so-called Third World. North America, large parts of Europe and, since 1960 also East Asia, have not experienced warfare. This observation can be further disaggregated into several specific historical phenomena that account for this distribution. Among them ranks the observation that wars of decolonization figure prominently, as do regional war systems which link several countries (see contribution by Stetter in this volume). The wars in Indo-China and Southern Africa were such complexes of war in which different conflicts were closely interrelated and sustained each other (ibid.). 4. Wars last longer. Apparently linked to the predominance of intra-state wars is the observation that the average duration of wars has steadily grown since 1945. One further crucial empirical observation in this context is that intra-state wars are also less likely to end by peaceful means, for example by mediation. The UN and regional organizations have been much more successful in mediating inter-state conflicts when compared to their involvement in armed conflicts within states. More than 50 per cent of intra-state wars ended with a military victory of one warring faction, whereas only 20 per cent could be ended by third party mediation. The figures for inter-state wars tell the opposite story. More than 50 per cent were ended with third party intervention and only slightly more than 20 per cent were decided militarily (ibid.). The tendency of prolonged intra-state conflict is obviously related to the absence of institutions designed to deal with conflicts within state boundaries, whereas the state system and its international institutionalization offer many more mechanisms for the negotiated settlement of organized violence between states. 5. Decrease of major warring states. The distribution of war participation among states is very uneven. Whereas some states were not involved in warfare in a single instance since 1945, others figure prominently on the list. The US, France, the Soviet Union/Russia and Great Britain head the list, just in front of regional powers like Iraq, India, China, South Africa and Israel (ibid.). This short summary is by no means exhaustive as it only mentions a few observations from one academic discipline, namely IR. It might be concluded, though, that the development of war after 1945 has been dominated by intra-state wars taking place in those areas that are part of the so-called ‘Third World’, including parts of the former Soviet Union and the Balkans. The kind of organized violence that still structures the popular conception of war in the West, inter-state war, has lost much of its importance. This brief summary of empirical findings also shows that there is not only a problem of how to describe war appropriately and with an adequate conceptual language, there is also a problem of the empirical fit of any theory. In this context, the theoretical task is thus not only about construction. We already have some knowledge on when and where wars have been fought and who was involved. While these empirical findings are often

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crude they cannot be neglected by any theoretical discussion on this subject matter. In any case, they call for an explanation, and this is the first challenge for any theory of war. There are, however, more requirements for a good theory of war and these shall be discussed briefly in the following section.

Requirements for a theory of war In order to compare different theoretical approaches, one requires a common measure, a tertium comparationis. As always, there are different ways to establish such a yardstick. It becomes all the more necessary, the larger the number of relevant theories and approaches becomes. In the field of war and violence studies, it has already become a huge task to establish a complete overview of all those approaches. Theories that try to link the history of violence to the history of states are for example prominent in sociology and history, as the work by Hintze, Weber and Elias indicates. Cultural anthropologists and historians try to link the occurrence of war and political violence either to the human drive for aggression (Gay 1993) or to the historical development of forms of rituals and revenge in society (Girard 1972). Other authors, particularly in contemporary German sociology, prefer a phenomenological approach that does not aim at building an overarching theory on the historical development of warfare but delivers insights into the micro-effects and underpinnings in the exertion of different forms of violence (Trotha 1999). On the other extreme, some studies discuss the enigma of war on the basis of sophisticated quantitative and formal methods applied to all forms of codified data (Fearon and Laitin 2003; Fearon 1995). Given this current situation of ‘competition’ in the field of social research and the state of ‘knowledge’ in the field of war studies, at least four main requirements seem necessary in the formulation of any convincing theory of war. 1. A need for theoretical compatibility. Any theory of war must be linked to an established body of social theory. As fruitful as mere phenomenological studies are for the development of single ideas, they cannot replace the general function of theory, i.e. to shape the understanding of the world and to conceive conceptions. Theoretical contributions that allow a combination of new insights on a specific topic with insights and general assertions about other subjects are to be preferred to single-issue theories built around limited subjects. A theory, for example, that only covers the relation of statebuilding to war in the European experience is a valuable contribution (see Tilly 1990). An attempt to include this theory into a larger time span in order to explain state-building in other parts of the world is even better (Holsti 1996). 2. A need for integration of knowledge. War studies—including ethnographic/anthropological, sociological and political science research—have produced amazing insights and empirical findings over the last thirty years. This body of knowledge cannot be ignored by any new attempt to theorize about causation, structuration and consequences of war. Any theory of war must be able to integrate—or to render plausible—major insights from these previous findings. This applies not only to the major quantitative findings presented above, but also to countless other studies that go into much more detail about single wars and the role of single actors. They range from historical accounts to anthropological contributions—and they must be taken seriously.

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3. A need for conceptual adaptability. Contexts of war differ as much as do actors, single events and the degree of organized violence. It is, therefore, hard to imagine how a formal—for example, biological or micro-economic—theory could come up with more than banalities when dealing with the historical record of war. One also has to admit that there is, so far, no form of synthesis of macro-developments and huge variation. Hence, the value of theoretical contributions must be judged on the basis of the ability of each approach to take this diversity into account and represent it in its conceptual language. The task of any theory of war is, thus, to come to terms with historical differences, with the variety of motives and subjects around which—according to the actors’ view—wars were fought. 4. A need for operationability. Any theory that cannot draw on an already established body of knowledge—as is the case when a theory, such as modern systems theory, wants to rely on its own specific vocabulary that is not easily convertible into ‘mainstream’ social science language—must at least offer alleys to operational research. The phrase ‘wars are complex social phenomena’ is perhaps the most often printed phrase in books on this subject. But strangely, it has not yet led to any bigger debate about how research should deal with this complexity, how wars should be investigated or which methods would be appropriate for what purposes or precise subjects. Appropriate theories must offer reflections and advice on these crucial questions. These requirements might be contested since meta-theoretical orientations always determine the standards for judging the quality of theories. Some might prefer formal logical stringency. Others might stress aesthetics in construction and language. Thus, the selection of criteria presented here is, necessarily, a personal choice and open to debate. The following section shows how these requirements for a major theory of war have been addressed in ‘the Hamburg approach’ to the study of war. It then discusses the challenges which modern systems theory faces in order to come to terms with the subject of war. As will be argued, both approaches, ‘the Hamburg approach’ with its roots in classical sociology and modern systems theory share a number of axiomatic orientations. Differences, however, exist as well and these will be duly discussed further below.

Theories of world society and war War is a global and a historical phenomenon. As this is commonly acknowledged among the community of war scholars, one should expect that both characteristics would have entered most theories of war, if not all. Surprisingly, this is not the case. Most theories of war focus either on the ‘psychological thesis’—such as the frustrationaggression nexus—on cycles of power theorems or on other theses that aim to explain why war occurs. World society or the world system has rarely been the starting point for theories of organized violence. Apart from some recent attempts in modern systems theory, there is only one major research project in which a world societal focus has been used as the conceptual starting point, namely the socalled ‘Hamburg approach’, developed throughout the 1990s.2 In order to assess the possibilities and also possible obstacles for the study on war from the perspective of modern systems theory, ‘the Hamburg

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approach’, which has a somewhat different understanding of what constitutes world society, might be worth looking at. Moreover, both approaches also tend to differ—as will be shown—with regard to the status of organized violence in both theories.

The concept of world society Both the Hamburg approach and modern systems theory distance themselves from a normative conception of ‘societies’ structured by states as this dominates much of social sciences and IR. Instead, they stress the idea that there is only one society, i.e. world society and that this world society is not necessarily a normatively integrated unity.3 But how can world society be conceived of and which terminology can be used in order to describe the way in which this global entity works? Here, the answers of both approaches differ—and do so in more than just a mere terminological sense. For modern systems theory, world society is constituted by communication. Its main divisions are not those between states or regions but between different functional systems that obey different codes. Hence, functional differentiation, which is the key characteristic of modern society, is also the main feature of world society. From this perspective, there can be no doubt that communication cannot be stopped at the border of any state and that, therefore, communication is by definition global (Luhmann 2000a:220)—thus, there is only one world society. Nevertheless, there are borders in world society. Its main divisions are not those between regions or states but between different functional systems obeying different codes. Functional differentiation is the key characteristic feature of modern society and it is also the main feature of world society. World society has a political system, an economic system and so forth. These systems are then internally structured as well. The state system, in this interpretation, is nothing other than a segmentary differentiation of the global political system (ibid.: 222). ‘The Hamburg approach’ has a different starting point and draws mainly from the writings by Marx, Weber and Elias. For ‘the Hamburg approach’, the term ‘world society’ designates primarily a historical process and, secondly, is used as a systemic category to denote the global unity of social reproduction. The big historical movement that brought this unity about is the development of modern capitalism and its global spread as a result of the European expansion. The emergence of world society is, thus, identical with the history of capitalism, of which Marx’s theory of value is the most abstract theoretical formulation. Notwithstanding the differences between these two theoretical approaches, they both emphasize the role of radical historical change in social organization. However, one might ask whether systems theory could be more precise about the historical process that created this great transformation in the first place. This lacuna is linked to another one. Thus, until today, modern systems theory is not historically differentiated. Apart from the rather rough distinction between segmentary, stratified and functionally differentiated societies (Luhmann 1983) there is no solution in modern systems theory for the problems of systematizing historical epochs or phases. Only very recently, Harste (2004) has

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suggested an avenue for such a historical reconstruction. Following Luhmann’s method of detecting historical change in the change of semantics in social and political language, Gorm Harste tries to follow the change of warfare by observing the change in the binary code of war/peace. In contrast, ‘the Hamburg approach’ explicitly stresses such a historical differentiation by linking the history of warfare to the history of capitalism. In this regard, ‘the Hamburg approach’ follows very closer the ideas that have been developed by Marxist historians in their attempts to develop a structural history of capitalism (see Hobsbawm 1975; P.Anderson 1975). The history of value—from simple forms of exchange to the complex changes of the self-valorization of value—is the most abstract formulation of this. Wars in European history are always linked to the respective stage of the development of rationalities and social formations in this structural context. Trade colonialism was a different story from late imperialism and so were the wars led in these respective eras (see Siegelberg 1994). But the challenge goes much further. There is probably still a long way to go until any social theory can deliver a comprehensive explanation of the historical record of war. Traditional warfare or wars in ancient Greece differ from present day wars, and wars of the European expansion obey different logics than the Great Power wars of the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Who is waging war? What kind of political imaginaries guide actions? And what are the structural outcomes of organized violence? All these are legitimate questions that call for theoretical consequences that have not yet been drawn. It might be a highly interesting theoretical question to ask to what extent modern systems theory has developed out of the tradition of ‘conceptual history’ (Begriffsgeschichte) which is more abstract than the Marxist vein of differentiating historical stages into different stages in the evolution of value. For the purpose of this chapter it is, however, more important to identify a crucial issue of convergence between both approaches. Thus, in contrast to most theoretical approaches of war in IR, both modern systems theory and ‘the Hamburg approach’ stress that there is a historical process and that the meaning of action—or communication—changes during the course of this process. The history of warfare in world society is, thus, not just a change of power distributions as most theories of IR would argue. Thus, both conceptions of world society share the basic understanding that there is a major historical process that fundamentally alters the functioning of society. It is against this background that Stefan Breuer compares Marx’s historical genesis of capitalism with Luhmann’s notion of autopoiesis. The tendency of restless self-valorization [in Marx] is oriented towards the creation of an autonomous system of pure ‘societalization’ (Vergesellschaftung) that is only based upon itself and which changes all other pre-systemic elements into results of its own reproduction, creating by itself the conditions of this process. It is exactly this movement which Luhmann is sketching with his theory of autopoiesis. (Breuer 1992:79)

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The theoretical location of violence Violence has always been a huge challenge for any social theory. So far, there is neither one single approach nor any generally acknowledged contribution on the sociology of violence that would satisfy the needs of the diverse strands of scholars working on this subject. But in a theory of war, violence needs to have a theoretical location. There are, of course, different ways of solving this theoretical problem. As already argued above, in modern systems theory violence apparently has not attracted that much attention. For example, Fuchs (2004) characterizes violence as a symbiotic mechanism. These mechanisms, which exist in all functional systems, primarily serve the function of securing existing boundaries and hierarchies. They allow systems to decide about the relation between its media of generalized communication and relevant parts of physical life. Their characteristic is that they relate organic—or biological aspects—to the media of generalized communication. What sexuality is for love or needs is for money, physical violence is for power.4 While this conceptualization might be plausible for the description of the communicative aspect of violence, it does not enable modern systems theory to account for the historical variety of forms and practices of violence. There is another prominent location where violence is dealt with explicitly in modern systems theory. These are Luhmann’s writings on modern states and their tendency to suppress violence that is not considered ‘legitimate’ state violence (Luhmann 2000a:192). Violence is here primarily a ‘means of power’ and the superiority of violence over other forms of power is used to lay the groundwork for a modern political system by ‘disarming the nobility’ (ibid.: 49). Warfare in the early modern era then became the monopoly of the state and the linkage of warfare and fiscal means became part of the process of the differentiation of a political system (ibid.: 383–418). When Luhmann addresses the issue of violence in the context of modern state semantics, the theoretical location of violence in modern systems theory does not differ much from Weber’s, Elias’s or, earlier, Hintze’s work on the monopolization of violence by the modern state. It also comes very close to Pierre Bourdieu’s (1997) version of the change of political forms in which he develops ideal types of different political forms, such as the patriarchal household, the kings’ castle or the government mansion. In modern states, according to systems theory, violence is typically absent. ‘A power holder does not need to practise violence himself. It only needs to be plausible that he could use others for practising it (servants, the police, the military)’ (Luhmann 2000a:55). Differentiated power, therefore, needs an ally. Law is, thus, acquiring the function of processing those kinds of contradictions that could otherwise have developed violently (Luhmann 1984). In the tradition of classical sociology, which underlies ‘the Hamburg approach’, physical violence is—in contrast to modern systems theory—first and foremost a form of action. Building upon Weber’s scattered remarks on violence, Popitz (1986) sees violence as a form of action with its main quality being its immediateness. Exerted physical violence, but also the threat to use it, shrinks time horizons. There is not much more to be said about violence, as its use and its meaning depends on social circumstances. Forms of violence are socially and historically specific.

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This position however creates a problem—for what can be said generally about ‘war’ if violence is specific and thus historically contingent? For the Hamburg approach, some major distinctions help to sort out this infinite diversity of organized violence in history. The occurrence of war is explained on the basis of three structural lines that are constituted by the Leitdifferenz (guiding difference) of tradition and modernity. Firstly, there are those conflicts that are handed down from traditional forms of social life. Still today there are violent conflicts that are not closely related to state rule and that are not in any major regard different from traditional warfare of earlier ages. The highly systemized violent clashes between nomads in Kenya, Uganda or Somalia are a case in point (Bollig 1996). But also in modern Europe, traditional ideas about personal honour or organic ideas of social order still play a role for the representation of violence, even in the context of very modern circumstances. Secondly, and more important for the contemporary world, are those conflicts that result from the confrontation of modern and traditional forms of Vergesellschaftung (society-building). In the social sciences these conflicts are normally referred to as ‘problems of modernization’ and, indeed, the monetarization of societal ties, the individualization of reproduction and other features of transition are indicators of this secular and highly conflictive process that is spreading to all parts of the world. Thirdly, there are those conflicts that emerge as inner contradictions of modern capitalism itself. From a traditional Marxist view, the contradiction between labour and capital ranks first among these, but other structural changes in developed capitalist regions might be added. In modern society these conflicts are normally processed by nonviolent means even if the modern state always has, somewhere, an apparatus that remains a competent violent actor—a fact that every political actor is aware of. Empirically, none of these conflicts can be observed in pure form. Even traditional warriors nowadays use AK 47 automatic weapons and modern statesmen have not yet freed themselves from ancient ideas of personal honour and religious missions. Contrary to mainstream Marxism, ‘the Hamburg approach’ concedes that modern capitalism also has the ability to pacify social relations—capitalism thus also has a civilizing effect. But the absence of war in the relations between modern states is a late result of modernization. The flipside of the coin is that the capitalization of societies, the basic process of the modern era, is a conflictive and often violent process. The dissolution of older forms of social integration through the advancement of the world market, or through the imposition of modern statehood, is the major source of violent conflict in the modern era. The remainder is a state affair. The historical record of political violence shows very impressively that state agencies are the most important actors in the monopolization of violence in the twentieth century. Even if not all states have really achieved this monopolization of the legitimate use of violence states do have, from a global perspective, the largest arsenals, not only of arms but, also, of skilled personnel. Furthermore, it is part of the social role of statesmen and military staff that they, as state actors, are the ‘masters of violence’ and, as such, are entitled to use violence if deemed necessary. The entire history of inter-state warfare witnesses the global spread of this relation to the use of violence, connected in all state theories with the idea of sovereignty.

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How and why states wage wars also differs with historical context. The logic of wars between absolutist states in early modern history is not the same as the logic of humanitarian intervention. But what both share is a reference to the idea of ‘sovereignty’ and the state’s monopoly of the legitimate use of violence.5 Even in the case of humanitarian intervention this norm is not breached. Those intervening are states and the aim of action, at least according to the intentions of the interveners, is to restore a sovereign state that can again monopolize violence. To summarize, as far as the theoretical location of violence in both theories is concerned, differences seem to reside rather in terminology than in substance. Violence in history is largely seen as a correlate of the emergence of modern systems. Once established, modern society shows remarkable capacities to marginalize violence in the ‘outskirts’ of world society. Modern systems theory develops a formal approach in order to define violence, whilst ‘the Hamburg approach’ prefers to historicize violence as much as possible. Neither of the two approaches builds a theory around a concept of violence but rather prefers to embed its own take on violence into larger concepts of society or history. Yet, a couple of questions remain. How do both approaches explain the persistence of war in contemporary world society when this is conceived as predominantly modern? Moreover, how should we investigate events or chains of events that are considered to be wars?

Operationalizing theory Up until now, there is no method or operationalized version of how the study of organized violence could look like from a systems theoretical perspective. Generally speaking, there are two problems that system theoretical approaches face when operationalizing their language for the study of concrete empirical events. Firstly, structures are not directly observable. They have to be inferred from many observations and these observations, from whatever source, are normally not formulated in the language of the respective theoretical approach. Secondly, structures and the intentions of actors do not coincide. This lack of congruence is at the heart of the much debated problem of how to bridge the alleged gap between structure and action. An operational theory of war with a systemic background has to say something about how structural givens and the intentions and beliefs of actors relate to each other. In order to solve this problem, the Hamburg approach has developed a four-stage analytical model, called the ‘grammar of war’. This ‘grammar’ allows researchers to model causal relations as processes (see Siegelberg 1994:179–93). The idea of the ‘grammar of war’ is not to offer a universal model of processes of escalation. Instead, it aims to enable researchers to disentangle the myriads of information which appear when studying a war story. In this regard, it will help to think about the social surrounding and the social ‘content’ of violent conflicts in a manner that leaves room for contradictions, deadlocks and dynamics. The first step of this model is to address contradictions. Contradictions are understood as to those differences that can be found at different levels of social contexts, be it centre/periphery relations, differences in social structures or the simultaneous existence

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of different modes of social reproduction. This understanding of the term contradiction differs from a classical dialectic understanding of contradiction6 and it differs of course from what is meant by the term in modern systems theory, which does not consider the expression of ‘objective contradictions’ a meaningful term. For ‘the Hamburg approach’ all kinds of structural differences can potentially kick off a social conflict. It might be the differences in wealth and economic development between regions of a given country or the contradiction between the modern, rational form of a state and its less modern, rather traditionally structured societal content. The second step, crisis, refers to the perceptions of those contradictions by the actors themselves. The symbolic forms in which social actors perceive their environment and the values that enable them to decide about alternatives are engrained in their social roles, which is, following Bourdieu, a supra-individual category. The reconstruction of this filter is analytically decisive, in order to include the actors’ observations into an explanation, as these observations and their logic shape the course and dynamics of a conflict. Social change is almost always perceived through notions of ‘yesterday’, rationalizations of past experiences are used in order to explain current affairs. This is the reason why so many social conflicts are fought out in constellations that do not mirror the constellation of interests. An ethnic militia never serves the majority of its members, but the store of ideas and beliefs does not allow for a more adequate form of organization. At this stage, conflicts have already reached the third step. It consists of reconstructions at the organizational level. Even if many warring factions cannot be described appropriately on the basis of theories of modern organizations, they need to solve certain problems such as mobilization, identifying opponents and finding addressees—and they need to legitimize violence. The bulk of literature on conflicts and wars looks at this organizational level. Focusing on events and on processes of escalations, mainstream research normally does not include what might be beyond the obvious, namely structures and structural change. This can be illustrated by two examples. That anti-Semitism’s roots lie not in the beliefs of its proponents is, meanwhile, generally acknowledged. That the wars in former Yugoslavia were not about ‘ethnic hatred’ is much less so. As a whole range of authors studying the Yugoslav wars has pointed out, it was rather the severe economical decline of a rapidly modernizing society that was the structural background of violent secessions. Ethnic stereotypes and collective memories of earlier experiences of violence were then the communicational frames for the subjective rationalizations of what was happening (see Allcock 2000; Woodward 1995; Höpken 2000). The fourth step, war, is a question of degree. Some conflicts develop in intensity and length to a degree that most observers would call them a war. Yet, other conflicts do not. There might emerge an institutional solution for the processing of the connective behaviour or one of the involved parties might prove to be unable to match the contradictory requirements for organizing violence. But what is remarkable and needs investigation is that many violent conflicts gain their own momentum. Their dynamique propre is only marginally researched (see Genschel and Schlichte 1999) and most writings about it are rather metaphorical. What is interesting, is that, apparently, violence can become the motor of war—it perpetuates itself and may become systemic in character.7

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The ‘grammar of war’ that has been presented in this section, is not a rough recipe but rather offers a useful and sufficiently complex model to account for conflicts. Together with other elements of ‘the Hamburg approach’, it has led to a number of insights both on single empirical issues and on broader theoretical hypotheses (see Jung, Schlichte and Siegelberg 2003). Among them is the observation that differences in warfare do not follow the lines that the organization of science has established. The fact that there is political science, IR, cultural studies and economics leads many observers to reason about ‘political’, ‘cultural’ and ‘economic’ causes of conflict and war, whereas the social phenomenon of political violence obeys a completely different logic.

Conclusion Modern systems theory certainly has something to offer for the study and theory of war in world society. It seems promising, not only for defining and specifying systems and logics of political formations, such as absolutism (see Kunisch 1987), but also for accounting for military/security as a system in world society (see Kirsch 1998). Moreover, ‘observing observers’ is a good technique for discerning the specific causalities that are at work in different historical contexts (see Luhmann 1995d). Systems theory also has the merit that it has a built-in programme of distrust towards everyday-life explanations. How things actually work almost always differs from the explanations given by actors involved. With regard to the study of any empirical subject, however, this insight must lead to operational consequences. How to talk about something, what to look at, what questions to ask, what material to consult, what to compare—these are the questions any empirical investigation has to face. The two approaches considered here share a number of theoretical orientations in this regard. The usage of the term world society, it seems, is already indicative of a perspective that is opposed to the reductionism of formal logic and rational-choice theories based on utilitarian models and methodological individualism. Moreover, both approaches share the idea that history—or evolution—cannot be read as a story of progress or of self-conscious social change. Both approaches look at this secular process from a non-normative perspective. Whether one conceives history as evolution, as modern systems theory does or as Naturgeschichte (natural history), as modern Marxism would have it, is basically a question of terminology. There are, however, also differences between both approaches. For a historicalsociological understanding that is based on the classical sociological theory of Marx, Weber and Elias, there is basically only one system, namely modern capitalism. And, despite its cooptation of symbolic theories, it has kept a materialist orientation in so far as the abstract world market is considered ‘the true subject of world society’ (Diner 1985:328). This system can be studied in its historical development or on the basis of its different inner-functional modes of operation and contradictions. Any further usage of the term ‘system’ is restricted to a usage in an ‘as-if’ sense. One can investigate politics in the Ivory Coast ‘as if politics in the Ivory Coast had a boundary distinguishing its political realm from politics in its neighbouring countries or, say, France. But in fact, it would not make sense to do so, as the linkages crossing boundaries are often more important than the ones within these ‘systems’.

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For modern systems theory, it seems, the applicability of its terminology goes much further, with respective epistemological consequences and underpinnings. Within the system of world society there is a multitude of systems; there are functional ones, but also many others, like organizational or interaction systems. In this theoretical strand, there is no hierarchy and no centre among these systems. Furthermore, it might be dangerous to assume that the norms of sovereignty and territoriality as a modern form of politicized space are sufficient core categories for the understanding of political dynamics and political violence in world society. A closer look at non-Western parts of the world reveals that what proponents of modern systems theory seem to assume is not the case, namely that within the state-system ‘any element enjoys the very same form of legitimacy’ (Stichweh 2001). It might be true for the relations between states, but it is certainly not within states (for an alternative view see Krasner 1999). World society is not thoroughly modern and, therefore, statehood does not mean the same constellation of relations throughout the world. For modern systems theory this is a problem. How can a theory of modern systems deal with a world that is not entirely modern? ‘The Hamburg approach’ has tried to solve this puzzle by acknowledging the overlapping of historical epochs, a decision that is not driven by theoretical considerations but by empirical observations. The logic of wars in contemporary subSaharan Africa, for example, resembles in some regards wars in early modern Europe or in contemporary India, rather than wars in contemporary Maghreb or violence in South Africa. The logic of war is not a logic of regions but, rather, a logic of historical trajectories and non-contemporaneity. This general structure of dis-simultaneity is another striking feature of many, if not all, wars after 1945. Following an expression coined by Ernst Bloch (see Dietschy 1988), it is labelled in ‘the Hamburg approach’ Ungleichzeitigkeit—the recurring observation that in social roles, as well as in forms of organization, ‘modern’ and ‘traditional’ forms are simultaneously present and at work. Global Vergesellschaftung did not start in the era of functionally differentiated societies but it has to be understood as the result of a historical process that is still ongoing. World society is not yet thoroughly modern and, thus, the focus on processes of functional differentiation might be deceiving. It might hide dynamics in contexts that are not thoroughly modern. Still today, Ungleichzeitigkeit is the signum of world society. It is perhaps this observation that creates the biggest challenge for modern systems theory in coming to terms with organized violence in world society.8 These and other questions challenge any social theory of war. It has to specify its language in order to attain some ‘fit’ with the numerous observations that the study of war in different social sciences has already produced. The major challenge for modern systems theory will consist not only in developing an analytically applicable language, but also, in doing so in a manner that produces a surplus vis-à-vis other theories. If modern systems theory is not able to say more than has already been said in classical sociological vocabulary, the endeavour would be futile. The jury is still out on whether this is the case or not.

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Notes 1 These attempts date back to the early twentieth century. In the period after 1945 the Hungarian scholar Istvan Kende was probably the first to build up what was not yet called a database on warfare of the postwar world. In the 1960s, David Singer at the University of Michigan began a larger quantitative research program called ‘the correlates of war project’. Klaus Jürgen Gantzel undertook a similar endeavour in the early 1980s by using the data and definitions of Istvan Kende. Later on other research teams joined the field, for example, at the University of Uppsala, at Stanford and at the University of Heidelberg. 2 Theoretical groundwork of this school was done by Siegelberg (1994). The quantitative side of the project is published by Gantzel and Schwinghammer (2000). Qualitative studies have been published by Jung (1995), Schlichte (1996) and Jung, Schlichte and Siegelberg (2003). See also the annual reports on ongoing wars (http://www.akuf.de/) and the more general work on world society in Jung (2001) and Schlichte (2005a, 2005b). 3 As Stephan Stetter argues in the introduction to this volume, there seems to be a decisive difference of opinion whether the concept of society is built on an understanding of normative integration or whether it explicitly foresees conflicts even within societies, and has an understanding of historical processes and evolution. The differences between these two strands of social theory reappear in the debate on different concepts of world society 4 Perhaps it should be stressed here, in relation to claims made in the introduction, that it is not only that the theory of social systems conceives conflict, and also, at times, violence, as functional. In the sociology of Georg Simmel or Lewis Coser this has been a recurrent and fundamental insight, not to mention Hegel and dialectics in his aftermath. 5 Humanitarian interventions look like a breach of that idea at first sight, but on a second glance they are not. The entire idea of humanitarian interventions is to create such a monopoly anew. Whether the practice of humanitarian intervention is in fact resulting in an institutional order that resembles the idea of modern statehood is, of course, a different story. 6 For Hegel, contradictions are always gleichursprünglich, stemming from identical origins. In the language of the Hamburg approach, the term contradiction includes what is in Hegel’s language merely opposition (Gegensatz) or difference (Unterschied). 7 This Eigendynamik is underlying the entire debate on ‘new’ wars, on war economies or ‘cultures’ of violence, see Elwert 1997 and Riekenberg 1999. 8 What is meant with the term Ungleichzeitigkeit could perhaps be reformulated as the simultaneity of two—or more—forms of causality (see Luhmann 1995d).

5 The autopoiesis of conflict transformation An example of a ‘Butterfly Effect’ in Greek-Turkish relations Eugenia Vathakou

Introduction On 17 August 1999, Turkey’s Marmara region was ravaged by one of the century’s most devastating earthquakes. This accidental event has had an unprecedented impact on Greek-Turkish relations. It seems that it has brought Greeks and Turks closer to cooperation than ever. Initially, Greeks were mobilized to gather aid for the victims of the earthquake. During the months after the earthquake, however, this expression of solidarity was transformed to cooperation in a number of fields such as politics, business, trade, arts, education and sports. There are not many analyses in the literature of Greek-Turkish relations that attempt to explain and evaluate the impact of the earthquake and the emergence of the cooperation that followed it. Practitioners, like politicians, journalists and diplomats, are puzzled by this phenomenon that followed the earthquake. Yet, they usually do not consider the earthquake as the central factor in the emergence of these positive developments in Greek-Turkish relations. Isolating inter-governmental relations, they argue that this rapprochement was the result of actions and decisions undertaken by the two governments before and after the earthquake. They seek to establish continuity in the aims each country held before and after the earthquake and they base their analyses either on an assumed rational calculation made by the Greek and Turkish decision-makers or by emphasizing the European Union parameter (for an overview, see Rumelili 2004; Muftuler-Bac 2000). Other approaches suggest that peace initiatives, both governmental and nongovernmental, that developed between 1996—in the aftermath of the crisis over the Imia/Kardak islets—and 1999 prepared the ground for and built up this phenomenon (see Heraclides 2002).1 Analytical tools from conflict resolution theory have also been employed to describe this phenomenon. This approach attempts to consider and evaluate developments on different levels of society, such as politics, media and civil society organizations. Nevertheless, it fails to establish links among them and cannot explain the timing of the developments and the dynamics that emerged after the earthquake. In the end, this approach too, returns to governmental politics, frustrated by its inability to provide an explanation for the complexity involved. This chapter examines the phenomenon that emerged after the earthquake as a dynamic process of morphogenetic social change in Greece and Turkey. Based on Niklas Luhmann’s theory of social autopoiesis, it argues that the earthquake was the decisive

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point for a shift from the existing self-description of the Greek-Turkish conflict in Greece and Turkey, to a new self-description, which developed around themes of cooperation. The earthquake was the ‘irritation’, the ‘stimulus’ that triggered fast-moving communication processes in a multitude of social and psychic systems in Greece and Turkey. Social systems structurally—that is a-causally—coupled with each other increased the complexity which then enforced the emergence of a new emerging order—a new ‘attractor’—i.e. a social system of Greek-Turkish cooperation. This chapter is divided into five main parts. The first part shortly presents Luhmann’s theory of social autopoiesis. The second part presents the phenomenon that followed the earthquake as a ‘butterfly effect’, thereby describing the autocatalytic chain reactions the earthquake triggered in Greece and Turkey. The third part argues that this ‘butterfly effect’ was due to the self-referential and, thus, paradoxical, nature of the operation of social and psychic systems. The fourth part describes the transition from the stage of bifurcation—that is a stage of increased complexity—to the emergence of the new attractor of cooperation. Here, the chapter examines the mechanics of communication in order to demonstrate that the new order emerged after the establishment of new differences through a process of generalization and re-specification of communication. The last part argues that this new system is autonomous from the other social systems.

The theory of social autopoiesis Based on traditional sociology, mainstream approaches to Greek-Turkish relations and to the developments that followed the earthquake too, consider actions/decisions as their main unit of analysis. In contrast, this chapter employs Luhmann’s radical constructivist approach and proposes a totally different perspective, shifting the focus of analysis from the search for necessary causes to the exploration of contingency and selectivity and from stability to dynamic stability, which is based on the constant movement of communication processes. It is a highly abstract framework however, which allows more factual complexity to be included in the analysis. This chapter cannot, of course, elaborate on the basic concepts of systems theory (see Luhmann 1984, 2002). Nevertheless, in this part of the chapter those theoretical concepts which are central to the arguments presented below will be discussed briefly. Luhmann conceptualizes society as a system, which includes all social (sub-) systems, which are constituted exclusively by communication—thus, psychic systems (human beings) are not part of society. These social systems are functional systems such as politics, economy, law, religion and others, but they also include interactions and organizations. Social systems are interconnected and yet interdependent in the way they implement their functions as they have developed their own rationales, their own implementation objectives as well as implementation programmes. The theory of social autopoiesis perceives systems as co-evolving through ongoing processes of structural couplings and interpenetration between different worlds of meaning. Structural coupling means that the same element may be used simultaneously by several systems through an a-causal synchronization of parallel ongoing processes (see Teubner 1997a). The simultaneous use of the same element does not determine the

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effects that it will have in different systems. Systems link and influence each other, not in some causal way but do so blindly. The same communication can be observed by each system according to its own unique code and rationality. Thus, different meanings will be attributed to it by different systems. This results in a tremendous increase of complexity. In the theory of social systems, the idea of the unity of system/environment, which leads to the conceptualization of social systems built up as selections responding to complexity because of the asymmetry between the system and its environment, plays a central role. No system can match the complexity of its environment, because a system cannot have enough information about all the other systems that constitute its environment (Luhmann 1995a:182; 1990b:119). The next question is how social systems are formed—that is, how selections occur. The answer Luhmann provides is that a new social system emerges through a situation of double contingency where every participant in a social action considers his action to be dependent on the action of the other. ‘I will do what you want if you do what I want’ (Luhmann 1995a: 117). In that sense an Ego is also an Alter Ego as she anticipates Alter’s reaction to her own action and to her own expectations. The ‘I will do what you want if you do what I want’—in its ‘double’ or reciprocal form—is a paradox that attracts accidents and creates sensitivity to chance. Nevertheless, every subsequent selection the system makes is an action with a contingency reducing, determining effect—be it positive or negative. Connections between selections and further selections create structures, as well as a history for the system. At this point, one word of caution is warranted. Encounters of double contingency do not only involve individuals, since social systems encounter each other too. This can be better understood if social systems are perceived as observing systems, which do not communicate directly with their environment but only observe it. While they observe, they produce distinctions. In fact, an observation is the unity of a distinction and a denotation. For, as I observe the tree, I not only distinguish it from everything else, I also ‘denote’ it, in this case by calling or naming or identifying it as a ‘tree’. When distinctions are introduced into the system’s world of meaning, they can be represented in language—which is, in itself, an evolutionary achievement of the co-evolution of psychic and social systems—through words, types and concepts, which in turn become important for the processing of further distinctions and for connecting the various distinctions in the system’s repertoire. New distinctions can be used to ‘order’ already existing distinctions and differences. In this way they may crystallize into structures of meaning. The system’s observations form the world of meaning of the system, that is, references connected to other references forming contexts which are useful for the orientation of the system’s operations. Accordingly, the ‘observer’ is not a subject that operates outside the observed reality. Instead, the observer is to be understood as a system, constituted by observations connected to each other and differentiated from its environment. This means that the environment cannot be reached through cognition, but the system’s operational closure enables it to process external influences through an internal cyclical causal process. Social systems shape their contact with their environments through their contact with themselves. The other-reference is only possible through selfreference. If social systems are self-referential then communication sensitizes society to

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chance and opens a horizon of creativity. To put it in another way, the theory does not see an ultimate purpose for communication, such as understanding and consensus—as Jürgen Habermas, for example, argues. This presentation so far makes clear that the focus of analysis in Luhmann’s theory is complexity and contingency instead of actors/actions and structures. And here comes another important contribution that Luhmann makes. The understanding of complexity and contingency requires the determination of the function of time in system formation. For Luhmann’s theory, time is the system’s basis of selection. Social systems do not have the time to connect with every element in their environment because the environment is always more complex than the system. It is complexity, then, that enforces selectivity. The theory of social autopoiesis describes the evolution of society as morphogenetic, that is, it comes about through mutual causal deviation amplifying processes. To use a well known metaphor, we can imagine the evolution of society through ‘butterfly effects’. An ‘irritation’ can trigger simultaneous reactions of various social systems leading to macroscopic changes, which affect the whole of society. Thus, modern society evolves bifurcations and attractors. Bifurcation is a moment in which complexity and contingency is increased. Then, networks of recursive observations of observations can yield recursive patterns of behaviour that have prevailed and become stable conditions. These are called Eigenvalues or ‘attractors’. Attractors are not final products or end points. Rather they remain unchanged in the course of the ongoing operation of the system. The principle of self-reference emphasizes the autonomy of social systems vis-à-vis their environment and the ‘blindness’ of societal evolution. Social systems cannot see the distinctions they introduce when they observe themselves and their environment. That also means that social systems cannot control the effects of their operations within society. They cannot see that they cannot see what they cannot see, i.e. their own blind spots. These assumptions have important implications with regard to the understanding of social phenomena such as, for example, an international crisis or the exploration of causality. Luhmann’s theory describes a self-organizing, free-floating society, which is self-constituted selectively through infinite complexity. In this environment, social systems are conceptualized as contingent emerging orders, which means that they are neither necessary nor impossible developments. Their emergence seeks to simply reduce infinite complexity rather than to serve an ultimate purpose. The self-referential mode of operation of social systems requires a different programme of research and analysis, which is designed to cope with multiple causality. The task for the researcher is to explore the structural couplings and to disentangle the multiple connections that ultimately constitute social systems. The researcher should ask the question, ‘Why was that and not something else selected?’ To answer this question, Luhmann proposes second order observation, that is, the observation of observing systems as the appropriate epistemology. The researcher has to examine the preestablished distinctions, the a priori elements systems employ when observing themselves and their environment and making selections. Here, the examination of each operation of observation puts the emphasis not on these a priori elements, the stable structures, as

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discourse theory and systemic approaches would do, but on the connectability and selectivity of recursive processes of communication which constantly produce and selfreproduce society. Rigorous empirical research comes to explore the system as temporalized complexity where time and contingency have played an important role.

The Earthquake of 1999 as a ‘Butterfly effect’ The devastating earthquake that occurred in Turkey on 17 August 1999, registering 7.4 on the Richter scale, caused the death of more than 30,000 people. The argument here is that the earthquake was the ‘butterfly’ that triggered a chain of spontaneous reactions within a multitude of social systems and their subsystems in Greece and Turkey.2 The media, municipalities, professional associations and individuals in Greece were mobilized in order to help the victims of the earthquake. As the Greek mobilization was projected on the news media, it provoked positive reactions within Turkey which, in turn, were reported back in Greece further amplifying communication about cooperation. This section seeks to describe the autopoiesis of communication about cooperation and its autocatalytic nature through concrete examples of social systems’ operations. The earthquake became a front-page headline in the Greek news media for the first few days afterwards. On 17 and 18 August, Greek newspapers devoted tens of pages to the situation in the area struck by the earthquake. Greek TV channels adapted their everyday programming to the earthquake, showing live coverage of scenes from the rescue operations and extensive coverage of the consequences of the earthquake. The first telegram of support from Greece to Turkey was sent in the afternoon of the first day after the earthquake, 18 August, by the president of the Greek-Turkish Chamber of Commerce, Panayiotis Koutsikos. He proposed to his Turkish colleagues who had suffered damage from the earthquake that they continue their production in Greek territory, for as long as that would be deemed necessary.3 The Greek Prime Minister, Costas Simitis and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, George Papandreou, expressed their sympathy to the Turkish government on 18 August. The first official Greek mission of people and humanitarian aid arrived in Istanbul in three C-130 aeroplanes, in the early afternoon of 18 August.4 From 18 August, initiatives were undertaken by Greek civil society organizations in order to gather money as well as primary necessities for the victims of the earthquake. On 19 August, a group of Greek Red Cross doctors, professional and volunteer nurses and members of the Samaritans left for Istanbul. The municipality of Athens set up centres where the Athenians could bring food, clothes and other basic necessities for the victims of the earthquake. On the same day, this mobilization reached the Turkish news media through Stelios Berberakis’s articles in the Turkish newspaper Sabah. Berberakis referred to the humanitarian aid sent by the Greek government to Turkey, described the mobilization of the municipality of Athens, media and other civil society organizations for the gathering of aid.5 On the next day, medical and pharmaceutical supplies were sent to the area affected by the earthquake by the Greek branch of the international NGO Médecins sans Frontières.

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By 20 August, the mobilization of Greek civil society had already received the name ‘Operation Solidarity’ from the Greek news media. The newspaper Ta Nea itself started a campaign for Turkish homeless and orphaned children. Berberakis presented all these initiatives on 20 August in the newspaper Sabah in a more detailed article. Yet, it was on 21 August that the mobilization in Greece appeared on the front page of the Turkish newspaper Sabah with the title ‘Neighbour, We Could Not Have Known You Are Like That’. After this article, news from the area of the earthquake took the lead. On 21 August, at the time that a Greek rescue team had brought a young boy out from the rubble, the Islamist newspaper Zaman wrote that ‘the image of the Greek who could not control himself and started crying when he saved the Turk will never be erased from our memory’.6 The Greek and Turkish news media started observing themselves and the change in their own attitudes which led to a spontaneous public dialogue. The initiatives undertaken by the Greek newspaper Ta Nea were news for the Turkish Hürriyet. On 22 August, Hürriyet was writing about an ‘Earthquake in the Media… Aid Account from Ta Nea’.7 ‘Thank You Very Much, Neighbour’ was the leading article of Hürriyet on 23 August and it was also written in Greek.8 The Greek press expressed its surprise and replied in the same spirit. On 23 August, the Greek Ministry of Health and Welfare sent by plane 2,000 blankets, 100 tents designed for six people each and large amounts of medical supplies. The president of the Greek Parliament contacted his Turkish counterpart to tell him that the Health Service of the Greek Parliament was also willing to contribute to helping the wounded people.9 On 24 August, the City Council of Thessalonica, the second largest city of Greece, gathered and sent to Turkey more than 20 tons of food, pharmaceutical supplies, tents and clothes. In addition, a special phone service was installed in the Municipality to provide information about the campaign. The Greek Red Cross, in cooperation with the International Federation of the Red Cross and the Turkish Red Crescent, opened an account where people could offer money for the buying of tents, blankets, electric generators and other necessities. The blood donation centres in Greek public hospitals and the Ministry of Health and Welfare issued statements requesting that blood be sent to Turkey. The Labour Centre of Thessalonica, in coordination with the other authorities of the city, sent humanitarian aid to the people affected by the earthquake. The municipality of Piraeus and smaller municipalities like Peristeri, Korydallos and Agioi Anargyroi and the Organization of Social Solidarity called on people to participate in this humanitarian aid campaign. The municipality of Sapes in Rodopi Province organized a voluntary blood donation. The Greek Orthodox Church entered the campaign on 24 August. The Bishop of the island of Rhodes, the Head of the Prefecture and other local authorities also started a campaign gathering humanitarian aid for the victims of the earthquake. The Prefecture of Kefallinia and Ithaki, two Greek islands, opened bank accounts for the victims. The rector and the academic community of the National Kapodistrian University of Athens, the Greek left-wing political party Synaspismos in Thessalonica, the Athens Bar and the Pharmacists’ Association of Attica Province, all gathered and sent medical and other aid to the victims of the earthquake. The Association of Journalists of the Daily

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Press (ESIEA) sent a letter of sympathy to the associations of journalists of Ankara and Istanbul, expressing their sorrow for the tragedy that had befallen the Turkish people. Hundreds of Greeks visited or called the Turkish embassy in order to express their sympathy and learn how they could help the victims of the earthquake. The Turkish embassy in Athens and the consulate in Thessalonica issued statements expressing their gratitude for Greek support in the light of the great disaster. The Prefecture of Xanthi and the Greek State Radio and the GSEE (General Confederation of Workers of Greece), in agreement with Turkish labour unions, organized large concerts in Xanthi, Athens and Istanbul respectively with two popular Greek singers, George Dalaras and Thanassis Gaifilias, for the victims of Izmit, on 30 August. It also featured the famous Greek composer Mikis Theodorakis, the Greek singer Maria Farantouri and the Turkish artist Zulfu Livaneli.10 The attitudes of the Greek people triggered further reactions of ordinary people from Turkey and Turks from all over the world, who started expressing their gratitude to Greeks in various ways. The Greek news media published dozens of electronic messages and letters of thanks that had been sent to them by Turks. Greeks, who happened to be in Turkey during those days, experienced this sudden change of attitudes in their interactions with Turks which, in turn, reached the Greek news media as ‘news’. On 23 August, the newspaper Ta Nea wrote about the way its crew in Turkey was being treated by Turks in the streets or in cafeterias and other public places. ‘The owner of the small shop outside Agia Sophia did not accept money and the owner of the café, whose grandfather was a Turk from Crete, burst into tears. The owner of a café in the centre of Istanbul, in Taksim, insisted on offering free beers to the Greek journalists’. Foreign news media also observed these changes of attitudes between Greeks and Turks and wrote about it. Corriere della Sera, The New York Times and The Boston News, all published articles on this new situation, reproducing parts of articles from Greek and Turkish newspapers and also publishing letters sent to them by their Greek and Turkish readers. This was fed back to the Greek and Turkish news media, which started reflecting on how foreign news media were examining this phenomenon in GreekTurkish relations. Official state authorities from other countries noticed and supported this change. The American Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright and the German Chancellor, Gerhard Schröder praised the Greek Prime Minister, Costas Simitis and the Foreign Minister, George Papandreou for the Greek help to Turkey.11 Finally, the earthquake triggered debates in the two countries which made an additional contribution to the development of the communication about solidarity and cooperation. In Greece, after the first days of the earthquake, the issue of the financing of Turkey by the EU and the stance of Greece on this matter gradually became central. As the earthquake paralyzed the backbone of the Turkish economy, the EU immediately responded to Turkey’s need for aid allocating funds in addition to the existing institutional framework. In this new context, the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs undertook an active role, requesting generous financial support for Turkey by the EU. This gesture was welcomed by Turkey and reinforced the positive climate. Then, the question centred on what would be the Greek stance at the Helsinki Summit in December 1999 regarding Turkey becoming a candidate for full membership in the EU. It is recalled here that although Greece had agreed to the Customs Union between

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Turkey and the EU in 1995, after the Imia/Kardak crisis of 1996, Greece put a veto on the Turkish candidature for full membership and asked for certain preconditions in order to lift it. That was an issue that kept Greek-Turkish relations in the limelight after the earthquake and until December, when the Helsinki Summit was convened and Greece finally lifted its veto. In Turkey, the earthquake gave rise to another debate which—although it seemed, at first sight, irrelevant to Greek-Turkish relations—had an important bearing upon further developments. In the wake of the earthquake severe criticisms were expressed against the Turkish state both by Turkish people and by the Turkish media. The criticisms centred on the Turkish state’s inability to deal with the disaster that had struck the country. This process contributed to the demystification of the role of the state in Turkey and the breaking down of important aspects of the national myth, including the stereotype of the Greek ‘enemy’. For the Greek news media and the Greek people, the openly expressed criticisms were something surprising. Used to talk about the censorship imposed on the Turkish media and the subjective way the latter treated the Greek media and society, they were now faced with a different reality. These news items provided the emergent order with points for further connections and thereby reinforced it.

The blind spots of social systems The previous section has described the chain reactions that occurred in a multitude of social and psychic systems in Greece and Turkey after the earthquake. Nevertheless, this description cannot explain how these reactions came about, nor can it explain their effects. This section, therefore, demonstrates that the actions and events described above were simplifications of complex processes of meaning determination carried out within various social systems, such as the media, civil society organizations and politics. It is argued that every action, after its occurrence, becomes autonomous from the conditions that brought it about and acquires informational and connective value for other systems which, in turn, select it, i.e. interpret it for their own self-reproduction. This also means that the same element is used by more than one social system and that it has different meanings— different selectivity and connectivity—for each of them. Furthermore, the earthquake was an event that was employed by various social and psychic systems for their further autopoiesis. It was ‘news’ for the Greek and Turkish news media, the stimulus for expressing philanthropic sentiments which drove Greek civil society organizations to action, a profit opportunity for certain humanitarian aid organizations, a publicity opportunity for Greek politicians, an unexpected opening for a long-sought change of policy on the part of the Greek government and so on. Modern systems theory helps us to understand how each social and psychic system operated during that time. The element emphasized here is simultaneity. Each system remained opaque and incalculable to the others, accessing complexity only selectively and only through reference to itself, that is, through its pre-established schemes of interpretation. By acting, it introduced its distinctions back to the emerging order. Nevertheless, it could not observe this re-entry and its consequences. It could not see that

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it could not see what it could not see. Systems cannot ‘see’ their own blind spots. In what follows, the next section highlights this mode of operation of social systems and presents examples of structural couplings that occurred after the earthquake among various social and psychic systems in Greece and Turkey. The system of news media The news media is a system which makes distinctions according to the binary code news/not news (Luhmann 2000b). The selection of the issues, that is, the construction of news, after the earthquake in the Greek and Turkish news media, followed the rules and the rationale of news production. The aim of the Greek and Turkish news media was not the propagation of friendship and cooperation. They only implemented their normal functions, guided by their previously institutionalized practices and patterns of behaviour.12 The earthquake in Turkey had all the characteristics of news for the Greek and Turkish news media; it was surprising and unusual and it referred to the life and death of thousands of people (see McQuail 1987:204). Similarly, the spontaneous reaction of Greek civil society organizations and the emergence of dialogue of friendship and cooperation among Greek and Turkish media were also surprising and unusual developments. There was no central planning about the way the earthquake, or the other issues that emerged in the course of the first days after the earthquake, should be presented. Greek and Turkish journalists and editors emphatically insist on the day to day development of the media agenda. This chapter presents examples of news construction, exploring the emergence of news items, as complex nexuses of meaning and of structural couplings between various social and psychic systems. These examples are taken from the Turkish television channel NTV, the Turkish newspaper Sabah, the Greek newspapers Eleftherotypia and Ta Nea and the Greek State Radio Station. The Turkish news channel NTV was one of the most important and reliable sources of information about the situation in the earthquake area in Turkey. Many news programmes had references to the Greek relief workers in the area of the earthquakes as well as the developments within Greece. According to the foreign news editor, Mustafa Asçioğlu, three main reasons explain why the Turkish news media made news out of the Greek aid story. First the Greek aid was news because it was unusual and surprising. Second, we saw that CNN-Turk [the other important news channel in Turkey] had a story about a Greek rescue team and so we asked our own reporter to work on a similar story… Third, it was a good opportunity, a way to make up for past mistakes. We had all understood the bad role the news media had played in the Imia/Kardak crisis and the mistakes we had made and there was an opportunity to make up for that as well.13 Berberakis’s articles from Athens for Sabah and his reports on the Turkish TV channel ATV provided the Turkish public with the first descriptions of the developments within Greece.14 Berberakis described his own rationale as follows.

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There were two important things for me at the time; one was the Greek television and the second an article in Eleftherotypia noticing a sudden radical change. After that I realized this is something different, this is important and I immediately took a camera and went to the hospitals to take pictures of the people who were giving blood.15 The article in Eleftherotypia that motivated Berberakis was written by Anna Stergiou. The title of this article was ‘Weapons Have Not Brought Happiness’ and the author pointed to the sudden change of Greek attitudes. At that time, Stergiou was not a columnist at the newspaper, but a young reporter. Nevertheless, that day she felt like writing this article to which nobody paid attention when she turned it in.16 In subsequent days, however, everybody started talking about it. It was reproduced by Berberakis in the Turkish newspaper Sabah and by the American newspaper The Boston News, too. Furthermore, messages kept on reaching the newspaper from different parts of the world continuing the dialogue that she had initiated without having had any intention to do so. The following is another incident which exemplifies the operation of communication through the structural couplings among different social and psychic systems. The Turkish news media had dispatched many crews to different areas hit by the earthquake, who were providing live coverage and were also recording the rescue activities taking place during the entire day. One of these crews caught the Greek team rescuing a little boy. That was shown on the TV screens the moment the same Greek team was travelling back to Istanbul by ferry. When the passengers saw the faces of the Greeks on the screen they recognized them immediately and offered them a place to sit. This, in turn, passed on to the Greek newspapers as a story from Turkey. The Greek news media were interested in the way Greeks are treated in Turkey. The Turkish reaction of warmth and gratitude was ‘news’. Institutionalized processes of cooperation among Greek and Turkish journalists, established from 1996–99 not only offered a scheme of interpreta-tion for what was happening in the form of themes for journalists like Mustafa Asçioğlu but, in some cases, they provided the structures for further cooperation. The concert for the victims of the earthquake organized by the Greek State Radio Station in Xanthi was an initiative undertaken by the Director of the Hellenic Radio Station, Ioannis Tzanetakos and his close associates. The implementation of this project was supervised by Damon Damianos, the Director of the local State Radio Station of Komotini. Tzanetakos and Damianos were both active members of the ‘Movement of Journalists for Peace in the Aegean and Thrace’ at that time. After the former became General Director of the State Radio Station in 1998 and the latter Director of the local radio station in 1999, they undertook several initiatives to promote cooperation between Greece and Turkey, ‘taking advantage of the inertia of the structures of state mechanisms’, rather than by cooperating with the state authorities.17 The journalists and columnists, who first described in their writings the changes in Greek-Turkish relations that followed the earthquake, had participated in the workshops that took place from 1996 until the earthquake. Stelios Berberakis, Sami Kohen, Mehmet Ali Birand, Damon Damianos, Ioannis Tzanetakos, Zeynep Göğus and Alkis Kourkoulas were only some of them.

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To sum up this section, the news media, by means of their normal functions, provided irritations and increased the communication possibilities and constrained complexity towards the direction of cooperation. The transmission of information to an undetermined number of potential receivers who could continue communication created an open field of experimentation in Greece and Turkey. That enabled unexpected structural couplings to occur in Greece and Turkey. Civil society organizations Greek non-governmental organizations specialized in humanitarian aid, ordinary people, intellectuals, authors and journalists made a major contribution to the emerging order, the system of cooperation (see also Kubicek 2002 and Gundogdu 2001). Yet, each system operated by drawing on different distinctions and following different aims. The Greek non-governmental organizations that specialized in humanitarian aid missions—like Kessa Dimitra and European Perspective—reacted, not as Greek organizations but, rather, as humanitarian aid organizations. Their first mission to Turkey after the earthquake was completely independent of the Greek government. They were financed by the EU (European Community Humanitarian Office).18 Offering aid to the victims of the earthquake was their job and they had to accomplish it according to certain international standards. However, their Greek, and not their European, identity and source of funding was accentuated by the Turkish people they worked with, as well as by the Turkish news media. It was precisely this element that was selected and interpreted and served for further structural couplings that enabled the autopoiesis of Greek-Turkish cooperation. Labour union leaders from various associations in Greece with a strong leftist ideological tone participated in the campaigns for the victims of the earthquake in order to express their solidarity with their colleagues from Turkey with whom they had established some contact before the earthquake. There we find international solidarity to be consciously opposed to the Greek and Turkish nationalisms. Leftists used the rhetoric of international solidarity and peace among people when they wrote about the earthquake in Turkey and the stance of the Greek people. A characteristic example is the article that provoked the dialogue between one of the bestselling Greek newspapers, Ta Nea and the Turkish newspaper Hürriyet. That article was written by Mihalis Mitsos, with the title ‘We Are All Turks’. When Mitsos wrote this article he ‘projected the idea of international solidarity rather than something else’.19 The paradox here was that this article was reproduced by the right-wing Turkish newspaper Hürriyet.20 Hürriyet was not concerned with the ideological message that the article conveyed. It selected this article for its striking title and also because it was written by a Greek journalist in one of the two best-selling Greek newspapers. In addition, when Mitsos wrote this article, he did not think of its possible effects, nor had he been following the developments in Turkey after he wrote it, since he is not a specialist in Greek-Turkish relations. Three years later, he was surprised to hear that the Turkish newspaper Hürriyet had reproduced a part of his own article.21

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It is important to note here that no communication with the Greek Ministry of Foreign Affairs or other official authorities had preceded initiatives such as the message of support by the Greek-Turkish Chamber of Commerce and the organization of the campaign for the gathering of humanitarian aid and the blood donation by the municipality of Sappes.22 The hundreds of Greek citizens who rushed to offer money, blood or other necessities and expressed their sympathy and solidarity with the Turkish victims of the earthquake, on one hand, and the Turks who expressed their gratitude, on the other, played an important role in the emergence of this phenomenon. They explained their attitudes in their letters, electronic messages and face to face interactions. These explanations reflect four main motivations. Firstly, Greeks felt they share a common fate with Turks because of the vicinity of the two countries. Secondly, the vivid images of destruction and pain that the earthquake had caused, projected through electronic media, stimulated feelings of compassion for the families of the victims. Thirdly, again, some Greeks and Turks employed a leftist ideology, which put the emphasis on solidarity among peoples and opposed Greek and Turkish nationalism in favour of internationalism. Finally, personal memories that Turks and Greeks had from the years they were living side by side in Istanbul or even positive impressions from visiting the other’s country emerged now to contradict the system of conflict and provide the background for their personal initiatives. The system of politics The argument put forth here is that the systems of Greek and Turkish politics were hijacked by the developments that followed the earthquake. The Greek and the Turkish governments were not in a position to control, let alone to design, these developments.23 Rather, the changes occurred in the wake of the earthquake, transformed their environment and imposed cooperative attitudes on the systems of Greek and Turkish politics. These changes reinforced structures favourable to cooperation and rapprochement and provided connecting points for their further development, contributing to the overall dynamics of communication about cooperation. The humanitarian aid gathered by Greek non-governmental organizations and the massive mobilization of Greek civil society brought about a new situation, which changed the environment of the system of Greek politics. The media noticed, recognized and reinforced this change by making ‘news’ about it. Questions posed by journalists to politicians invited comments on people’s reactions. The new emerging issues of communication provided a field of experimentation, not only for the news media, but for politicians too. The first statements of sympathy and the humanitarian aid sent by Greece to Turkey and the reply received were within the framework of the international official code of conduct. Nevertheless, the change in the official communication between the two governments was important. The provocative statements, usually hurled every now and then towards the other side, were now replaced by expressions of sympathy and words of friendship. These statements, however formal or however technical they might have been, were oriented towards the direction of cooperation and thus they were coupled with other communications from other social systems that had chosen the same direction.

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The mobilization of the Greek authorities was spontaneous. Fotis Xydas, ConsulGeneral of the Greek Consulate in Istanbul, a junction point for the humanitarian help coming from Greece, argued that there was not a well-organized plan driving the action of the various governmental agencies. He said that the TV set played a major role […] The mobilization of the Greek authorities did not follow a specific programme. It was just for appearances’ sake because the Greek TV channels were showing images from the earthquake for a long time […] It was more the result of a kind of competition among the different agencies and organizations regarding who would appear more on the Greek TV.24 The mobilization itself, however, created its own self-referential dynamics. It required continuous contacts on a daily basis among officials on both sides of the Aegean in order to cope with their tasks. The lack of understanding and the absence of common ground for cooperation that had been characteristic of the contact between the two sides of the Aegean over the years was now replaced by this specific and practical task to be implemented. The stance of the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs, George Papandreou, was important for these developments. Papandreou encouraged the Greek initiatives within civil society and he was personally engaged in certain efforts in that direction. The statements he made and his personal initiative for generous funding of Turkey by the EU was in accordance with his previous policy of rapprochement with Turkey. Nevertheless, the Greek government was not in control of these developments for two reasons. Firstly, the statements which encouraged people to make a contribution to the aid campaign were made on 24 August, which was seven days after the earthquake. By that time, tons of humanitarian aid supplies had already been gathered. Secondly, these statements cannot be considered as active coordination or engineering of the mobilization. Rather, the cooperative perspective of the Greek Foreign Minister vis-à-vis Greek-Turkish relations was structurally, that is, a-causally coupled, synchronized with the other spontaneous processes of communication emerging in and between various social and psychic systems in Greece and Turkey. To explain the Greek government’s stance, we also have to take into account the change of dynamics which the earthquake set in motion within the EU regarding EUTurkish relations. The pro-Turkish camp within the EU raised its voice urging solidarity with Ankara and asked the Union to reconsider Turkey’s candidate status.25 Facing these new pressures within the EU, the Greek government perceived the emergence of a stream of sympathy within Greece for the Turkish victims of the earthquake, as an opportune moment to change its policy with regard to the veto on the Turkish candidacy for membership in the EU. High-ranking officials in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs perceived that this shift of attitude would decrease reactions against both the release of the funds by the EU towards Turkey with Greek consent and also the potential lift of the Greek veto at the Helsinki Summit. The Greek veto had been

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considered by Greeks to be a stronghold in the undeclared Greek-Turkish diplomatic war within the various EU bodies. The resistance built around it within the Greek society made this issue seem like a minefield for any Greek government until the time of the earthquake. Ambassador Xydas’s observation with regard to the impact of the earthquake on the perceptions of the Greek officials is illuminating. ‘It was only afterwards [after the first weeks that followed the earthquake] that we saw its beneficial results’.26 Xydas’s empirical observation underlines the spontaneity of the changes that occurred within Greece and challenges the assumption of engineering from above. Neither were the Turkish attitudes determined by a rationale of cooperation or peaceful resolution of the conflict. The unexpected phenomenon that followed the first days of the earthquake, with the Greek aid flowing towards Turkey from different sources within Greece, was a major surprise for Turkish authorities. Again, the Greek Consul in Istanbul describes the situation as follows. ‘At the beginning they [Turkish authorities] were completely dazed at what was happening. What does this attack [of friendship] mean now? What is its purpose? They thought that we [Greeks] were influencing public opinion. […] But the dynamic of the whole situation made them more flexible’.27 As will be discussed in the next section, in the aftermath of the earthquake, the Turkish authorities had to deal with a crisis of confidence that broke out when the Turkish people and the media questioned their competence in dealing with the earthquake. Their inability to meet the requirements of organization and efficient management of the crisis resulted in increased criticism directed towards the two most powerful institutions in Turkey, the government and the army. The frustration and anger of the victims in the earthquake area, who demanded immediate help, framed the Turkish reactions towards the EU and towards Greece too. The European funds—and the Greek stance vis-à-vis that issue would matter—were more necessary than ever in order to heal the wounds of the earthquake. Nevertheless, while official answers and statements were in the direction of cooperation, efforts to reverse these dynamics were made behind the scenes by groups in the government and army as well as columnists in various newspapers. These efforts did not succeed in hitting their target. Instead, they invited an answer which added to the dynamic of the emerging order of cooperation.

From bifurcation to attractor The previous section described the emergence of the unexpected dynamics of cooperation as uncoordinated selectivity oriented in the same direction, namely the direction of cooperation and solidarity. Social systems and psychic systems, each ‘acting’ under their own rationale, increased the complexity of the situation and contributed to the emergence of a stage of bifurcation, a stage of undecidability where alternatives to the wellestablished explanations about the Greek-Turkish conflict emerged and eventually prevailed. This section explores the process of transition from the stage of bifurcation created by the dispersion of communication about the earthquake to the emergence of a new ‘attractor’, a new order of cooperation. As discussed above an ‘attractor’ is a selfdescription that has prevailed in society and has become a stable condition through networks of recursive observations of observations. Here, it is demonstrated that

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observing systems carry on their operations of self and other observations based on existing differences or by establishing new differences. The old well established differences supportive of the Greek-Turkish conflict that were taken for granted before the earthquake were Greek vs. Turkish interests, Greek state vs. Turkish state. The earthquake and the developments it brought about broke down and eventually replaced these differences by new differences such as civil society vs. state, Greeks/Turks vs. politicians, enmity vs. friendship. These new differences found connections in existing referential substrata of both countries. It is argued that cooperation emerged as a new identity, a new attractor to order the new differences, interpret the new phenomenon and attribute meaning to aspects of Greek-Turkish relations from the past. It was introduced to rationalize the new situation and to help social and psychic systems handling infinite complexity. The linking device for the structural couplings, which led to the emergence of the new order, was the language already formed through similar processes of morphogenetic evolution from 1996 to 1999 or even before. The emergence of new differences The mobilization of Greek civil society, in order to gather humanitarian aid, offer money and express sympathy for and solidarity with the victims of the earthquake, broke down the long-held image of Greeks as enemies who seek to inflict harm upon Turks. On the other hand, in Greece, the image of Turks as the worst and most dangerous enemy of Greeks collapsed in front of the image of Turkish people mourning myriad victims of the earthquake. Turks appeared as human beings, suffering in agony for their families who were still under the ruins. Furthermore, the Turkish reactions that followed the dispatch of material aid and relief workers were a surprise, which further broke down the expectation of the enemy according to the image built up over the years. The emergence of the new differences can be traced in the articles, writings and the public speech of these days. On 20 August, Mihalis Mitsos wrote in his article ‘We are all Turks!’ that, ‘if pain and joy really bring peoples together, then Greeks and Turks should be brothers […] we might believe in a different God, we might not believe in a God at all, but we pray for you, because whatever our governments say, whatever propaganda our channels transmit, we love you, we stand by you, we are close to you’.28 Panayiotis Ioakeimidis, an academic and a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, wrote in the same newspaper on the same day about the common elements that the two peoples share and pointed to the vanity of the conflict. Looking at those maps and reading about the disaster of biblical proportions, a disaster that the experts say can strike our country at any time, one can reflect on really how pointless it is for the two countries to come to the brink of war for some arid rocks, for some arid islets, whether they are called Imia or Kardak. The fate of the two peoples is indeed somehow common in many important things.29

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As Sami Kohen stated categorically30 From now on, nobody will be able to follow the ‘politics of tension’ just because the ‘public wants it this way’. Nobody will be able to write provocative words by taking refuge in the same superficial argument. The public’s wish was determined by this disaster As noted above the motive for Berberakis to write his report in the Turkish newspaper Sabah where he described Greek reactions was an article written by Anna Stergiou. He quoted a part of this article in his own report. Family, school, army […] with all these institutions and a series of historical and political examples we, the Greeks, fed feelings of hatred and antagonism and we believed that the Turks are our enemies. But how did it happen that these feelings, full of hatred and antagonism, that have lasted for years, are deleted and gone within a day? The enemy is becoming a friend overnight.31 On 22 August, the columnist Zeynep Göğus wrote in Sabah about the collapse of Greek stereotypes. The next day, she emphasized the fact that those who were considered to be Turkey’s enemies, such as the Greeks, Russians and Israelis, had been the first ones who had arrived quickly to help the Turks. On 28 August, Bekir Coskun wrote in Hürriyet about ‘the flower of friendship of the two peoples that grew in the ruins of the earthquake’ stating that he ‘will never again believe those politicians who instigate crises between the two states’.32 A group of 21 nuclear physicists from Turkey sent their best wishes to Greece ‘which proved that humanism is more powerful than everything else’. Another ‘friend from Turkey’ thanked the newspaper Ta Nea for publishing his electronic mail message to the Greek people. ‘Our Brothers the Greeks’, wrote the columnist of Cumhuriyet, Ahmet Kislali, who used to employ a strong language in his criticism of the Greek policy vis-à-vis Turkey.33 On 27 August, the newspaper Ta Nea published a number of electronic messages sent to it from Turkey. A characteristic example is the following, written by Cengiz Sarri. ‘We have always loved you in spite of politics. You know it and we know it. […] I am sending you my best wishes and I hope for your friendship. I am sending you the best wishes of the Turkish people too!’34 Adnan Caglayan, correspondent of the Anatolian News Agency and Stelios Berberakis, correspondent of Sabah, when asked by Eleftherotypia about the possibility of a non-aggression agreement between the two countries and cuts to both countries’ military budgets, answered positively, arguing that ‘peoples’ and journalists’ initiatives can be more effective than those of politicians and governments’.35 During the days after the earthquake, ordinary Greek and Turkish citizens instead of politicians became the focus of the observation of various social systems. Greek rescue teams and humanitarian non-governmental organizations at the location of the natural disaster, working together with Turks side by side in the rescue operations and other

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activities, broke down the difference of Greeks vs. Turks. Initiatives undertaken by ordinary people landed on the front pages of the newspapers. Turks and Greeks, became symbols of the friendship of the two peoples. Little Güven, the boy that the Greek rescue team found in the ruins of his house; a Greek woman firefighter, who went to Turkey as the head of the mission that would help in putting out a big fire;36 the pilot of a military aeroplane, who now flew a cargo plane with humanitarian aid, are only some examples. Another focus of observation became the way the Turkish state dealt with the crisis the earthquake created. The expectation that the Turkish state would be strong and could protect its people against external enemies and any disaster was shattered.37 The Turkish government found itself subject to intense criticism about delays and its inability to deal with the problems that the earthquake had created. In addition, the new situation challenged and eventually broke down the well-established theory in Turkey ‘of Turkey being isolated and surrounded by enemies’. This theory was built upon the differences of Turkey vs. world and Turkey vs. Greece. Now the enemies, including Greece, were running to help. The extracts from the Turkish press below reveal that these observations gave rise to the emergence of new differences such as the Turkish people vs. the Turkish state, people/civil society/world society vs. state, cooperation vs. conflict. On 20 August, an article was reporting on ‘the fourth day of the earthquake and the rescue operations of the state!’ with the title ‘Political Ruins’. Coskun wrote an article in Hürriyet with the title ‘Where Are You?’ to state that ‘the most frequently asked question is “Where are you?” This word “where?” […] Where is the aid? […] Where are the rescue teams? […] Where is the state? […] There is no answer to those questions.’ The next day, Cüneyt Ülsever wrote in Hürriyet. ‘The bureaucracy with the army in this state since a long time ago justify those who say that “this state structure is useless’”. In Milliyet, on the same day, Duygu Asena wrote an article with the title ‘Yes, they came into terms with that!’ He argued But the state isn’t there […] They work voluntarily with their hearts and minds. They work simply to succeed at what the state has not done. We were in Yalova and Cinarcik. We did not see either intensive work or anyone in charge from the state […] Indeed, there was complete harmonic cooperation […] that was among the citizens. On 24 August, Milliyet, criticising the authorities for the serious delays in the rescue operation, wrote ‘The People are Unprotected’. The Islamic newspaper Zaman reported on the same deficiencies. Its main headline was ‘Disaster at Night, Scandal in the Day’. The revelation of the inability of the state to meet the needs of the people operated as a reinforcing factor for the emerging system of Greek-Turkish cooperation for two reasons. Firstly, it contributed to the breaking down of the difference our nation/your nation. It was not the Turkish state, but the world that came to help the thousands of victims of the earthquake. Now, worldwide civil society emerged in contrast to the political system. In addition, although those that had officially sent help were governments, Turkish correspondents could see and thus project the image of individuals in the field. Secondly, this contingency enabled further structural couplings within Greece. This critical

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reporting vis-à-vis the Turkish authorities was important news for the Greek news media. It found good ground, in particular, among leftists who still held vivid memories of the years of the Greek junta and perceived the criticisms against the Turkish state as a reaction of the Turkish people against an autocratic regime. The institutionalization of cooperation The new system can be identified through the institutions, programmes and roles that have been established in various fields after the earthquake. From early September, expectations for cooperation began to assume an institutionalized form in a number of fields, creating the conditions and setting the goals for further promotion of cooperation. The structures of cooperation established in politics, business, arts and the media consolidated a broader change of attitudes at the grass roots level, which can be described as a new system of cooperation. Cooperation on the governmental level was consolidated with the signing of nine agreements on economic cooperation, environment, tourism, security and other issues.38 The discussions about these agreements started after the Kosovo crisis in April 1999. The Turkish Ambassador in Athens, Ali Tuygan, uses a metaphor to describe the impact of the earthquake upon this process saying, ‘the earthquake helped to place in an avenue what had begun in a narrow road’.39 Greece and Turkey co-authored a resolution to the UN, creating a unit for emergency situations. Furthermore, Greek seismological institutes established closer cooperation with their Turkish colleagues on issues of scientific interest. The universities of Athens and Istanbul signed an agreement, which established the creation of new Departments of Turkish and Greek Studies in both universities. Indeed, in the years from 1999 to 2002, many projects have been implemented among the schools and faculties of various universities of the two countries. The municipalities of Istanbul and Athens have established a permanent channel of communication and cooperation, which has enabled close contact and the development of projects in the framework of EU-funded programmes. The EU’s funds have encouraged cooperation among municipalities, allocating a considerable amount of money for the promotion of the institution of sister-cities, as well as for developmental programmes.40 The municipality of Sapes initiated and completed the creation of a network of municipalities, which includes municipalities in Western Thrace in Greece and municipalities in Eastern Thrace in Turkey. As the Mayor of Sapes, Dinos Haritopoulos, emphasized, it was only after the earthquake that the mayors of the other cities took the courage to visit Turkey and start some sort of cooperation, overcoming the impediment of the previous prejudices that they or their constituents held.41 The municipality of Kavala also established an office in Istanbul with the task of providing information for tourists and those interested in trade with this part of Greece. Thessalonica, the second largest Greek city, has also developed close bonds with the municipality of Istanbul. Several Greek banks have expressed their interest in investing in Turkey and have opened offices which actively search for local partners in Turkey. Various associations, artists and organizations have found a way to develop cooperation in their neighbouring

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country. Films of Greek-Turkish production have been produced in the last few years and have been very successful.42 Several exhibitions of different kinds of art have been organized in both countries. Furthermore, the number of Greeks who have visited Turkey and the number of Turks who have visited Greece since the earthquakes has increased impressively.43 Nikitas Lionarakis, Chairman of the Greek Foreign Ministry’s Liaison Committee for Non-Governmental Organizations and Ali Tuygan, the Turkish ambassador in Athens, both admit that today it is impossible for the official authorities of both countries to catch up with the majority of these initiatives. After the two earthquakes, these initiatives have multiplied on a scale that cannot be followed, as most of them do not involve the Greek or Turkish state in any way.44 These processes of cooperative interactions culminated in the lifting of the Greek veto at the Helsinki Summit of the leaders of the then 15 members of the EU, in December 1999. The emergence of new self-descriptions The structural changes that emerged after the earthquake were self-changes. More precisely, they were changes of social systems’ self-descriptions. The main operations of social and psychic systems, which are observing systems, are the operations of selfobservation and other-observation as well as self-description. The previous section explored how social systems observed their environment and themselves within it, and with what semantics they made their selections of observations. The present section examines the way these observations affected the self-descriptions of social systems. The analysis below emphasizes, again, that a social system is constituted as the unity of the system/environment difference. Initiatives that had been suspended after the Ocalan crisis of February 1999 were activated after the earthquake. The initiatives of business people for peace got back on track after the earthquake. The Greek part of the Greek-Turkish Chamber of Commerce was the first Greek civil society organization that sent messages of support and offered material support to its Turkish counterpart.45 Mayors of Greek and Turkish cities were encouraged to pursue some kind of cooperation with municipalities from the ‘other side’. Furthermore, the Greek-Turkish Forum managed to come up with a concrete proposal about the resolution of the dispute over the continental shelf in May 2000, which was welcomed by the Greek and Turkish Ministries of Foreign Affairs as an important contribution to the peaceful resolution of the dispute.46 These changes were self-changes, which emerged through self-referential processes of communication. The systems themselves played a part in the alteration of their own structures. The information employed was selected from a domain of potentialities that each system devised and held to be relevant. It was social systems themselves, in both Greece and Turkey, that perceived the developments after the earthquake as an important change to their environment. They picked up the irritation their environments provided them with and they attributed to it meaning which, in turn, had a further effect on their own self-description.

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To give an example, members of the Greek-Turkish Forum admit that they felt endowed with a different responsibility after the earthquake. They felt that the two people wanted peace and this justified their effort.47 For that reason, they decided to be ‘more ambitious’ and discuss the core of the conflict in the Aegean.48 This new perspective as well as the previous transformations of the Greek-Turkish Forum reveals the paradoxical nature of social change. Members of the Forum like Ambassador Costas Zeppos and Ambassador Ilter Türkmen had participated in many discussions on Greek-Turkish problems in the past from their official positions. Ambassador Zeppos was the Head of the Department of Greek-Turkish Relations in the Greek Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ambassador Türkmen had served in important posts within the Turkish Ministry, as Turkey’s representative at the United Nations and also as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Nevertheless, they had never come so close to the production of a formula for the resolution of the dispute over the continental shelf—a long-lasting thorny issue between the two countries. Both of them attest to the importance of the environment of trust and cooperation established within the Forum. Furthermore, the impact of the earthquake upon their interaction comes to show that their perception of the environment outside of the Forum is equally important. This sudden transformation draws our attention to one more feature of these processes. The differences that emerged after the earthquake existed before the earthquake. Yet, the developments brought about by the earthquake made social and psychic systems aware of them, leading them to new self-descriptions. Once again, here it becomes apparent that the operation of self-description does not amount to some kind of accurate or objective description of reality. This is an evolutionary achievement rather than the result of a rational calculation. The change of self-description is reflected in the statements and writings of politicians, journalists, intellectuals and ordinary people. The expression of surprise that followed these developments illustrates further the autonomy of the operation of self-description. We read on the front page of the newspaper Hürriyet ‘The People Run Ahead of Us’. The director of the newspaper Ta Nea, Leon Karapanayiotis, stated that ‘the solidarity that the Greek people express is not a surprise only for you [the Turks], but for us as well’.49 Politicians too recognized the change and the emergence of new arrangements. The Turkish Prime Minister, Bulent Ecevit, the Turkish Foreign Minister, Ismail Cem and the Greek Foreign Minister, George Papandreou, have talked about the expectations this phenomenon has created. Ismael Cem, in an interview he gave to a Turkish channel, openly confessed that these developments have gone far beyond what politicians had thought and he expressed his fears as to the risks of disappointment but also the responsibility politicians bear after this.50 ‘The earthquake has changed everything’ in Greek-Turkish relations, wrote Mehmet Ali Birand.51 These statements recognized the emergence of the new system. This very recognition reinforced the emerging order and ultimately contributed to its construction too. Causal analysis, based on narrowly defined interactions, cannot cope with these paradoxes of communication. Morphogenesis describes the complex processes of social change, going well beyond the general and abstract remarks of the sociality of peace processes. This autonomy of the new system of cooperation will be discussed in the remainder of this chapter.

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The autonomy of the system of cooperation The previous sections explored the increase of complexity after the occurrence of the earthquake and described the emergence of the new order as enforced selectivity towards the direction of cooperation. The new system of cooperation employed previous determinations of meaning for its autopoiesis. This is possible due to the self-referential nature of communications and the specific strategies of generalization and respecification. Communications after the earthquake were generalized on all the three dimensions of meaning, i.e. the issue, the temporal and the social dimensions. Past events were recalled and connected to present occurrences and future expectations were formed through extrapolations from the past and the present. References to the Greek help for the victims of the earthquake detached themselves from the specific events of the earthquake and sought connections to references to a history of cooperation and peaceful Greek-Turkish coexistence: Turks who had memories from the years they lived together with Greeks in Istanbul;52 Greeks who had travelled to Turkey on holiday and had enjoyed Turkish hospitality;53 the common elements in the cultures of the two people, all were recalled to support and provide points for further connections in building up the new system. Paradoxically enough, the system of cooperation emerged as something that had always been there. In the interpretations of these developments, the adverb ‘always’ (alternating with ‘never’) underlines the process of generalization on the temporal dimension, indicating duration and existence in time. Cengiz Sarri wrote in his electronic message ‘we have always loved you in spite of politics’. Coskun argued ‘we will never again believe those politicians who instigate crises between the two states’. ‘It has always been there,’ maintained the columnist Hadi Uluengin. Generalization in the social dimension means that there is no constraint as to who is going to make what contribution and when that will happen. Different social partners can make a contribution to the new order. As was shown above, not only, and not mainly, politicians, but journalists and ordinary people contributed to the emergence of the system of cooperation. The Greek pensioner, Turkish intellectuals who had contacts with Greek writers and poets on the other side of the Aegean Sea—;54 they all made contributions to the emerging order. This analysis of the emergence of Greek-Turkish cooperation in the aftermath of the earthquake demonstrates that the new system was independent of the will and planning of the various social and psychic systems that contributed to its constitution. It cannot be identified with the rationale of the system of politics, nor with the rationale of mass media or civil society organizations. Ultimately, it was independent from what brought it about—cooperation for relief of the victims of the earthquake. It acquired its own identity—its own existence as a complex system of Greek-Turkish cooperation.

Conclusion The emergence and sudden diversification and multiplication of cooperative interactions between Greeks and Turks have often been described as a paradox, as ‘lacking reason’. Indeed, the analysis in this chapter demonstrates that the system of cooperation lacked

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reason. It was neither instigated nor developed by a super-system, acting under a specific rationale of cooperation and peace in the broader region of the Aegean Sea. The new system of cooperation was the product of the transformational dynamics of communications. Recursive operations of meaning production and processing triggered by the earthquake, were set in motion in the news media (Greek, Turkish and foreign), civil society organizations, politics and among ordinary citizens. Cascades of communication flows, which happened to get caught up in meaning networks that intersected one another, enabled the increase of complexity and created the need for its reduction. Ultimately, the new system of cooperation was itself a reduction of complexity. In that sense, there is not a cause, or a reason, for its emergence and constitution. The new system itself is enforced selectivity towards the direction of cooperation. The initial condition that gave rise to this system was a natural disaster—an accidental and thus contingent event. This analysis points to the role of contingency and chance but, at the same time, it underlines that chance does not mean randomness. Chance means lack of coordination among social systems. The absence of coordination can nevertheless produce effects and trigger causal processes. Furthermore, the analysis in this chapter demonstrates that it was the evolution of society that enabled the amplification and intensification of communication processes that constituted the new system. The unexpected appearance of the earthquake and the events and actions that followed it were incorporated and endowed with meaning and causality by social systems. Previous determinations of meaning and social structures like themes, institutions, persons and organizations provided adequate grounds for the functional specification and institutionalization of a Greek-Turkish system of cooperation. The new order emerged in the course of the autopoiesis, the ongoing self-renewal of modern functionally differentiated society. It was not imposed from outside; it emerged from within Greece and Turkey. The systems theory perspective sheds light on the transformation process of the Greek-Turkish conflict as a dynamic process which involves the whole of society in both countries. Furthermore, it breaks the illusion of Greek-Turkish relations as being in a state of stability, to describe their development as a constant process of becoming, restless change and movement—which is a state of dynamic stability. Thus, the analysis on the basis of Luhmann’s theory departs decisively from deterministic approaches which seek to uncover cause-effect relationships according to a machine-like Newtonian logic. The dynamics that unfolded after the earthquake were the dynamics of selectivity and connectivity of communication processes. This perspective, as noted in the introduction of this book by Stephan Stetter, can make a contribution to current debates in the field of conflict theory, providing analytical tools to further theorize on the dynamics of conflict transformation. Modern systems theory’s problematization of complexity, illuminates Johan Galtung’s argument about the process of complexification involved in conflict transformation (Galtung and Jacobsen 2000). Furthermore, it can help us to understand better the practical implications of Jabri’s study on violence, which qualifies the outbreak of violence as an existing choice in society constituted through social discourses and social practices (Jabri 1996).

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Finally, the aim of this study was to provide an insight into the complexity of this phenomenon. It does not claim that this is a representation of the reality (in singular). The judgement of the usefulness of the theory rests with the readers and whether it offers, in their view, a better understanding of the complexities of modern society. This will be answered through the observations of the author’s observations by other second order observers. Ultimately, the success of this viewpoint depends on its connectability and the way in which it is integrated into further communication.

Notes 1 Also many participants in civil society peace initiatives argue in favour of this interpretation. See interview with Paulina Lampsa, Athens, 01.09.2001. 2 The empirical data presented in this chapter was mainly gathered from the Greek newspapers Eleftherotypia and Ta Nea and the Turkish newspapers Sabah and Hürriyet. 3 Interview with the Managing Director and Official Spokesman of the Greek-Turkish Chamber of Commerce, Harry Caloudis, Athens, 20.07.2001. 4 Many countries from all around the world sent humanitarian aid and trained teams equipped for the rescue works. For information regarding the humanitarian aid offered, see the articles ‘Rain of Aid’, Hürriyet, 18.08.1999, ‘The World Runs to Help’, Hürriyet 19.08.1999. 5 Sabah, 19.08.1999. 6 Zaman, 21.08.1999. 7 Hürriyet, 22.08.1999. 8 Hürriyet, 23.08.1999. 9 Ta Nea, 19.08.1999. 10 Mikis Theodorakis and Zulfu Livaneli have been in the forefront of efforts for cooperation before the earthquake and even in the most difficult times for Greek-Turkish relations. 11 See Eleftherotypia 28.08.1999 and Hürriyet 29.08.1999. 12 Luhmann’s framework allows research to explore the complexity involved in news production and the interaction of the system of media with the other social systems, avoiding the general assumptions for manipulation or independence of the media. For analysis of the media product through conventional theoretical perspectives, see Giallourides 2001 and Tilic 1998. 13 Interview with Mustafa Asçioğlu, editor of foreign news at the News Channel NTV, Istanbul, 20.08.2001. 14 See ZAMAN, 25.09.1999. 15 Interview with Stelios Berberakis, Athens, 11.03.2001. 16 Interview with Anna Stergiou, Athens, 07.03.2002. 17 Interviews with General Director of the Hellenic State Radio Station, Ioannis Tzanetakos, Athens, 07.03.2002 and the director of the Radio Station in Komotini, Damon Damianos, Komotini, 01.04.2002. 18 Interview with Pantelis Sklias, General Director of the Greek NGO European Perspective, Athens, 11.06.2002. 19 Interview with Mihalis Mitsos, journalist, Athens, 05.03.2002. 20 Hürriyet, 25.08.1999, “The Greek Ta Nea: ‘We Are All Turks’”. 21 Interview with Mihalis Mitsos, journalist, Athens, 05.03.2002. 22 Interview with Harry A.Caloudis, Managing Director and Official Spokesman of the GreekTurkish Chamber of Commerce, Athens, 20.07.2001, Interview with the Mayor of Sappes, Dinos Haritopoulos, Istanbul, 08.12.2001. 23 The mainstream literature focuses on the system of politics based on the assumption of the rational acting of states, without doing research and questioning the role of civil society. See,

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for example, Giallourides and Tsakonas 1999; Platias 2000. A great part of the literature examines the role of the EU from this perspective. For example, Kazakos and Ioakeimides 1994; Featherstone and Ifantis 1994; Gunduz 2001. 24 Interview with the Consul-General of the Greek Consulate in Istanbul, Fotis Xydas, Istanbul, 22.04.2001. 25 See French President, Jacques Chirac and the European Commission’s officer responsible for Turkey, Günther Verheugen’s statements, Turkish Daily News, 12.09.1999. 26 Interview with Ambassador Fotis Xydas, Istanbul, 22.04.2001. 27 Ibid. 28 Ta Nea, 20.08.1999. 29 Ta Nea 20.08.1999 30 Sami Kohen, ‘The Public’s Wish’, Milliyet, 25.08.1999 31 Sabah, 21.08.1999. 32 Bekir Coskun, Hürriyet, 28.08.1999. 33 Cumhuriyet, 24.08.1999. 34 Ta Nea, 27.08.1999. 35 Hristina Corae, Eleftherotypia, 17.09.1999. 36 That was the answer from interviews with people from this area two years after the earthquake on the question ‘Who put out the fire in the refineries?’ 37 For the Turkish political culture and the role of the state see Dodd 1990 and Erguder 1987. 38 Interview with Ambassador Ali Tuygan, Athens, 18.07.2001 39 Ibid. 40 Some of them are the MERP, MEDA and INTERREG programmes. For further information see http://www.europa.eu/. 41 Interview with the Mayor of Sappes, Dinos Haritopoulos, Istanbul, 08.12.2001. 42 See, for example, the cinema movie Buyuk Baba Kucuk Ask, as well as the Turkish TV series programme Yilan Hikayesi, which made known to the Turkish public Katerina Moutsatsou, a young Greek actress. Interview with Katerina Mutsatsou, Istanbul, 20.12.2001. The Greek actress Karyofilia Karabeti played also a role in a film of Greek-Turkish production and the songs of the Greek singer Angela Dimitriou have been at the top spots of the charts in Turkish radio and TV stations. 43 Interview with Socrates Tragotsis, Consulate General in Istanbul, 10.03.2000. 44 Interviews with Nikitas Lionarakis, President of the greek Foreign Ministry’s Liaison Committee for NGOs, Athens, 07.08.2001 and Ambassador Ali Tuygan, Athens, 18.07.2001. 45 For statistics about trade between Greece and Turkey over the last eight years see the website of the Turkish organization DEIK, http://www.deik.org.tr/. 46 For the proposal see the Greek-Turkish Forum’s website http://www.greekturkishforum.org/. 47 Interviews with Ambassador Costas Zeppos, Ambassador Paulina Lampsa, Ambassador Ilter Türkmen 48 Interview with Ambassador Ilter Türkmen, Istanbul, 13.11.2001. 49 Hürriyet, 29.08.1999, Ferai Tinc, p.1 and p.18. See also the article written by Sami Kohen in Milliyet, 25.08.1999, ‘The attitude of various levels of society from the ordinary man to the businessman, from intellectuals to civilian organizations, surprised not only us, but also government officials in Athens.’ 50 The Turkish Foreign Minister, Ismail Cem, said that he has lost the capacity to control developments because as he emphasized “immediately after the earthquakes new expectations have been established in both countries’”, Eleftherotypia, 15.09.1999 51 Mehmet Ali Birand, ‘Efharisto Poli, File’, http://www.greekturkishforum.org/arti_6.htm

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52 Hadi Uluengin in Hürriyet, 26.08.1999 and Turgul Savkay, writing about the Greek national poet Giannis Ritsos, in Hürriyet 29.08.1999. 53 See article about the letter Giannis T.Kouris sent to the Turkish Ambassador in Athens, Ali Tuygan, Hürriyet, 25.08.1999. 54 Hürriyet, 26.08.1999.

Part II Points of contact: Sociological, legal and philosophical perspectives on systems theory, IR and conflicts in world society

6 Contradiction, conflict and borders Heinz Messmer Introduction1 The main argument of this chapter is that a social conflict marks a distinction in the relationship of the parties involved and that this distinction draws a border between them. While borders are always a social construction, these constructions are often embedded in a spatial context. This chapter, thus, rests upon the assumption that borders can be understood in a geographical, territorial, social or cultural sense. Moreover, due to the proximity of the two concepts of ‘conflict’ and ‘border’, it is argued here that any conceptualization of ‘borders’ requires a substantiated understanding of social conflict, thereby accounting for the social preconditions of any particular border. Such an argument can, thus, also be read as a critique of conventional conflict theory, also in IR, which often takes for granted what, rather, requires further explanation. It will hence be argued in this chapter that a better understanding of social conflict does also contribute to a better understanding of borders. This argument is also of direct relevance to our understanding of conflicts in international relations, since it also offers a fresh perspective on territorial border conflicts. The aim of this chapter is twofold. Firstly, it proposes a systems theoretical perspective on social conflict which differs from most analytical and theoretical assumptions in conflict theory which are currently used in IR—but which could, nevertheless, provide a fruitful point of encounter between modern systems theory and IR. More specifically, it is argued that social conflict is a ubiquitous—but, nevertheless, unique—self-referential phenomenon of social life. As an immediate consequence, it is pointed out that conflicts must be understood and described in terms of their internal forms of differentiation. Accordingly, the main elements and structures of conflict development are self-referentially ‘produced’ by conflicts themselves. Hence, what characterizes conflicts is the ongoing internal procession of ‘contradiction’ and ‘opposition’. In contrast to most other theories of social conflict, this chapter argues that a conflict’s environment (for example the actors involved, their interests and needs, the specific social contexts, etc.) does only account for the specific phenomenological shape of different social conflicts, but is not needed for an encompassing theory of conflict emergence and conflict development. In a second step, on the basis of the aforementioned conflict theory, this chapter draws some more general conclusions on the construction of borders in social conflicts. It is argued that social conflicts generate an idea of the social world that is closely aligned with the concepts of territoriality and territorial borders. Seen from that viewpoint, this

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chapter finally argues that territorial borders can be analyzed as the outcome of temporarily resolved social conflicts, while territorial border conflicts—as they are studied in IR—can be best understood as their revival.

Social conflict as system and communication What is probably the most puzzling feature of conflict theory is that there is no clear-cut distinction between conflict, on the one hand, and the causes and contexts of conflict, on the other. Conventional conflict theory relies mainly on the study of causes, structures and motive-related characteristics of conflict. Primarily, it describes the causes and effects of social conflict, but is less suited to account for those processes that occur inbetween these two poles. By doing so, conventional conflict theory tends to privilege the external preconditions of social conflict but is less intrigued by a conflict’s internal dynamics, processes and structures. However, can social conflict really be equated with the influences that lead to, or the consequences that result from, social conflict? It is argued here that conventional conflict theory has a rather static understanding of social conflict, which presupposes that social conflict can be characterized according to those factors which influence its emergence, while neglecting that such influences are themselves the outcome of conflict development.2 Notwithstanding the unique nature of any particular social conflict, no conflict does exist as a simple matter of fact. When looking at the complexities of all possible conflict dynamics between individuals, groups, organizations or social institutions, it becomes immediately apparent that there is a long way from the emergence of social conflict from a single and harmless event up to its stalemate or even (violent) escalation.3 In this process, several transformations and proliferations occur: small conflict issues can be extended to bigger ones, specific conflict topics can turn into more general themes and the conflict parties involved can grow from few to many (Pruitt and Rubin 1986:64–65). A particular motive or an individual attitude can be relevant at one specific moment in a conflict’s development but can be irrelevant at the next. Hence, the progression in conflict development is only poorly and partially understood, if static analytical categories such as motives or attitudes form the basis of analysis. In contrast, when focusing on the internal dynamics of conflict development, it becomes clear that a social conflict precedes the actions and interactions of the concrete conflict parties. Such an argument follows Luhmann (1995a), who has argued that conflict—like any other social system—can be defined through reference to its system boundaries that separate the inner side of the system from its outer environments. Following this argument, a social system can be defined as a distinct complex of operations that has the capacity, through its own operations, to delineate itself from its outer environment. What constitutes and stabilizes the system against its external environments are, then, the processes of its internal differentiation which self-recursively produce and reproduce the elements and structures of the system. Relating to modern systems theory, a ‘contradiction’ is the fundamental operation of a conflict system that

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generates and regenerates its own preconditions of systemic reproduction. Although a conflict requires some external input in order to emerge, it subsequently generates its elements, properties and system structures by means of a self-referential process of contradiction that basically occurs inside the system.4 In addition to blending the notion of social conflict with a conflict’s underlying causes, motives or contexts, a further problem arises from the analytical description of conflicts in conventional conflict theory. This is to take for granted the meaning of fundamental analytical terms, such as behaviour, actions, actors, interests and needs, whereas modern systems theory rightfully challenges our understanding of these very categories (for another example see Siedschlag 2000:173). To pick but one example, ‘action’, according to systems theory, is a highly aggregated ascription of what is constantly produced within or with reference to the system in which the action occurs, rather than a basic unit of social interaction. As Luhmann (1995a:137) puts it, sociality is not a special case of action, but action a special case of sociality (for a further debate on this, see Stichweh 2000a). Hence, a second major distinction is also relevant for the analysis of social conflict. While ‘action’ is frequently used as an unquestioned term for an interactively co-produced (self-) description, this chapter proposes that the concept of ‘communication’ is better suited to analyze such internal system processes. According to this perspective, the fundamental activity that produces and reproduces the elements and structures of a system is communication, while ‘action’ refers to a social ascription elicited by means of communication with respect to a personal or social system. Thus, communication is fundamental in that it produces and reproduces the social system empirically.5 To borrow again from modern systems theory (Luhmann 1995a:141–42), communication can be defined as a triple selection of utterance, information and understanding. Thus, it makes a difference which type or form of utterance is selected, which information is processed and which (mis-)understanding is produced. Information is mainly a selection of possibilities (Shannon and Weaver 1949) and a piece of information can be defined as a difference that makes a difference (Bateson 1972:315). Communication, then, relies on a social relationship, since a personal or social system interactively engages in information exchange. As a consequence, it is impossible to escape from the constitutive process of communication since there is no social activity, no social relation and no social structure beyond or outside communication. While communication is fundamental for all social life, the same logic applies to the processes of the initiation, stabilization and termination of a social conflict. Social conflict as a system seen from inside6 A social conflict starts when a communication offer encounters rejection and the other side does not want to give in. A conflict’s precondition is, thus, an expression of meaning (piece of information) that requires from its addressee either to respond affirmatively or express a rejection. Any reaction that does not contradict is a cooperation, while a rejection points to the emergence of a conflict. In turn, the rejection of a meaning-offer forces the meaning-giver to either accept the other’s rejection or insist on what was originally meant. Only if both sides reciprocally disagree in such a triple sequence, can

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we speak of a social conflict. These three sequences are, firstly, the expressed meaningoffer, which usually asks for assent; secondly, the refusal or rejection of that meaningoffer expressed in the form of a contradiction; and finally, the resistance against the rejection by means of insistence on what originally was meant or said.7 Based on such a sequential understanding of social conflict, its elementary processes can be analyzed as the synthesis of two communications, i.e. one that utters a meaningoffer and another that responds negatively. In order to pave the way for the emergence of a social conflict, it is unimportant what is expressed as a meaning-offer in concrete form and content, be it a mere account, an assessment, an expectation or a need—all this is structurally irrelevant for conflict emergence, since form and content do not determine whether the response is dissent or rejection. Contradiction, in turn, occurs in those cases in which there is a preceding communication which the other is unwilling to accept— whatever the reasons for this rejection may be. This far-reaching claim of an independence of social conflict from any particular social setting renders conflicts a ubiquitous, overarching and universal form of social relationship, constantly present in a contingent social world. Another conclusion, which is of relevance here, is that form, process and structure of a social conflict are primarily a consequence of the different communication styles used in order to express a contradiction. It is less the particular content that influences the course of a specific conflict but rather the particular form selected for expressing the contradiction. Such an argument relates to the difference between ‘why’ and ‘how’ as different perspectives for the observation of social conflict. The reasons (why) for contradiction are in principle endless; the selected styles (how), in contrast, are not. Instead of analyzing social conflict with reference to the supposed motives, interests or needs, this chapter proposes to study its different forms in order to understand the contingent processes of contradiction. The most compelling reason for such an approach, however, relies on the argument that all content (for example, conflict issues) has to be processed on the basis of selected communications. Against this background, four elementary styles of conflict development can be differentiated that reflect the different communication devices used in order to express contradiction. These four styles are referred to here as conflict episodes, issue conflicts, relational conflicts and power conflicts. A conflict episode, as a first mode of a conflict’s internal differentiation, is formally defined by its restrictions in time. Obviously, a large part of social conflict in routine everyday interaction oscillates between two different expectations—one that aims to contradict the expectation of the respective other and another one that aims to avoid the conflict. In every social relationship one encounters the inevitability that one may reject the other’s expectations in order to clarify the individual stance. On the other hand, however, there is also another strong impact present that aims to protect a given social relationship against breakdown and pathologic destruction. Until today, there has been only little systemic research on the emergence of a conflict episode (but see Maynard 1985; Vuchinich 1987; Corsaro and Rizzo 1990). However, these few analyses allow us to draw some noteworthy conclusions. As this body of research indicates, a conflict episode often stops after only a few expressions of contradiction (mostly six turns on average beginning with the first uttered contradiction).

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After this maximum of six turns, either one party gives in or leaves in a huff; sometimes both sides are compromising; in most instances, however, both sides terminate the conflict episode unresolved and ‘agree’ to disagree (Vuchinich 1987:596–669). With respect to the structure of a conflict episode, the empirical data illustrates the sharp contrast between the almost endless reasons for contradiction and the limited selection of patterns. Hence, a conflict episode characterizes a situation in which both parties, following the first contradiction, prefer to engage in a conflict. They are willing to oppose each other and in doing so they demonstrate their resistance and unwillingness to give in. After such a reciprocal display of resistance, however, there is no further dissent. All this refers to an elementary societal principle which governs social relationships. In routine social interaction people prefer cooperation, while disagreement is socially dispreferred.8 This tendency to resist at first but then to quickly agree (to disagree), provides a first hint to one elementary function of social conflict. Hence, whatever else a contradiction does—first of all, it marks a social distinction as a precondition for all social conflicts. This distinction is, to a certain degree, already selfsufficient, as it directs attention to the necessity of opposition and willingness to resist, while further moves to challenge the other’s stance are avoided in order to continue the social relationship. A second conflict style, which appears from the analysis of empirical data, can be classified as an issue conflict (on the empirical data, see in detail Messmer 2003). In contrast to a conflict episode, an issue conflict is structurally dominated by the wish to successfully push through one’s own position. The primary objective of the conflict parties is, therefore, to convince the other side to give in. In issue conflicts, the relevant contradictions are typically grouped around specific themes, which result from a dissent about the particular issues that remain to be solved. However, each communication, which is uttered in order to secure or push through one’s own position, constantly produces further trigger events which challenge the respective other. Consequently, the progression of an issue conflict is equivalent to the progression of topics that are raised since each defence is also a way of relating to the other’s position. As a result, the predominant communication strategy in an issue conflict is to convince the opposite party to give in rather than to demonstrate mere opposition. Thus, it can be argued that issue conflicts are extended versions of one or more conflict episodes. In contrast to a conflict episode, however, the parties in an issue conflict do not avoid contradiction; in fact, quite the opposite is true. Thus, the social preference for agreement (equivalent with the avoidance of contradiction) is replaced by the preference for dissent. This preference structurally dominates the expectation on each side that the respective opponent will (and indeed should) contradict. Once started, both sides tend to reach some conflict settlement but they do not themselves want to withdraw. Since such issue conflicts relate to themes, they can theoretically proceed endlessly. On the other hand, however, an issue conflict also faces significant limitations that restrict the opposition to its factual and objective grounds. Whatever is said or done in order to bring about the other’s assent needs to be expressed in a manner that reflects a certain amount of respect. In other words, an issue conflict extensively ventilates the objective side of a contradiction but avoids the risk of damaging the social relationship.

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Precisely such a risk of damage to the social relationship occurs at the next stage of a conflict’s internal differentiation. Thus, in a relational conflict9 the contradiction does also refer to the social relationship. A relational conflict is different from an issue conflict (although it might smoothly shift from one style to the other), since it relies on a particular communication style that makes it possible for the relationship to be made topical for contradiction. While an issue conflict proceeds basically by means of a contradiction (for example yes/no, confirmation/rejection), a relational conflict prefers to operate with special reference to the distinction between ‘you’ and ‘I’. The relevant communication device here is an expression of blame. Thus, whenever blaming occurs, the contradiction has entered the social relationship of the conflict parties, which begin to oppose each other personally.10 As one cannot overestimate the consequences of a blaming for any conflict development, it is worthwhile to looking more closely at this special communicative device (see also Drew 1978; Atkinson and Drew 1979; Pomerantz 1978). In contrast to a mere rejection, blaming does not need to rely on a previous meaning-offer and is, thus, less reactive than proactive in nature. Blaming occurs if a party attributes responsibility for an unhappy incident to the respective other. In doing so, it draws a distinction between a conforming and a deviant conduct, relating the conforming behaviour to the blaming party itself, the deviancy, in turn, to the respective other. Thereby, a normative and moral asymmetry is established that transforms the social relationship into a victimoffender relation. As blaming also provokes the individual self-esteem and the positive self-image of the opposite party, it is highly probable that self-defence mechanisms come into play which aim to dismiss the accusation.11 The socially preferred response to blaming is either an excuse or a justification. While the excuse basically accepts the reproach of injustice but denies responsibility, the justification, by contrast, accepts responsibility, but denies the wrongness of the incriminated act. Moreover, as blaming can be understood as an expression of personal or social degradation that categorizes its addressee in a negative way, it is reasonable to protect the self by means of a counter-charge. Forced by means of mutually expressed accusations, enemy-images now begin to structure the social relationship (for more details of this, see Spillmann and Spillmann 1991; Rieber 1991), while negative feelings (shame, rage, aggression) can easily intensify further reactions.12 The likelihood of blaming also increases in those conflicts in which none of the parties is willing to give in. As a consequence, the conflict itself is regarded as an unpleasant event that in turn provokes a reaction. For both sides it becomes reasonable to assume that it is mainly the other side that is responsible for all the problems, thus constantly producing and reproducing further unhappy incidents and contradictions. As a result, the parties begin to pay more attention to their relational matters. Step by step, the image of the relevant other changes from a respected one to a troublesome image of an annoying opponent that constantly prevents reasonable conflict settlement. Accordingly, objective contradictions move into a process of social antagonism, since it is always the opposite party that is seen to be guilty for unhappy incidents. Finally, such a communication style prepares the ground for a power conflict, which is the fourth and most extreme form of intensified contradiction. A power conflict emerges whenever force and violence become topical within the conflicting relationship in order to motivate the opposite party to give in. The proper device to introduce power into the

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system is by means of a communication of threat. A threat refers to a conditional and contingent social meaning, typically expressed in the form ‘If you are not willing to do X, then I will do Z’—whereby ‘X’ refers to an other-compliance, conditionally relevant in that it is not yet realized, but should be fulfilled, while ‘Z’ is a promised self-compliance, contingent in that its fulfilment remains uncertain (see Schelling 1960:36; Kent 1967:84). Most significant for processing a power conflict is the observation that following a threat, communication is dispreferred.13 While in an issue conflict, a contradiction is mainly processed argumentatively and in a relational conflict accusations and justifications (or counter-accusations) create and reproduce contradiction on the personal level, in a power conflict neither an account nor a justification is wanted. Rather, what counts is a behavioural compliance with the particular threat and the abandonment of further resistance. Hence, the recognition of the other has undergone a further significant change in comparison to other styles of conflict, as far as a communication of threat deindividualizes the opposite other. Neither the legitimacy of a different stance nor the justification of a certain conduct is relevant for the consideration to use power. Communication of threat is an attractive alternative concerning the other’s resistance, since it offers a negative and thus favourable exchange, i.e. to gain high benefits with low costs.14 However, when seen from the opposite side, a communication of threat narrows down extensively the remaining alternatives to respond. Either submission or resistance—that is, in short, what is left. Thus, a power conflict either ends the conflict immediately or persists as a ‘threat system’ (see Boulding 1963) of mutual deterrence and social distrust. Processes and functions of social conflict From a theoretical perspective, these conflict styles can be conceptualized as a sequence model of different intensity stages. This model illustrates the distinct systemic progression in conflict development. On the basis of the aforementioned studies, the conclusion can be drawn that each style is distinct from the other regarding the communicative intensity which is used in order to motivate the opposite party to give in. If the term ‘intensity’ is understood as an increased rigidity to push through one’s own stance, irrespective of the resistance of the opposite other (Cooper 1988:172), the communication of threats is a particularly rigid expression since it places more restrictions on the remaining alternatives of the opposite party than, for instance, the expression of a mere rejection. Again, to contradict by means of rejection is structurally less rigid than to blame the opposite party for causing an unhappy incident. As can be demonstrated, the inevitability to react to a conveyed contradiction varies in relation to the expressed rigidity that requests a personal or social system for concessions in spite of its unwillingness to give in. From a mere systems perspective, these communicative styles can be differentiated with regard to the degree to which consent is captured in the environment of the system and is structurally transformed in the system at each stage of the conflict development. Thus, if, for example, the cooperative aspects of the relationship between the parties are considered as the conflict environment, it becomes obvious that the more communication is affected by contradiction, the less consent will be left in the environment of the system.

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Seen from a systems theoretical perspective, conflict progression is thus equivalent to its internal differentiation, since it progressively reaches out to the cooperative dimensions of the conflict environment, thereby transforming agreement into opposition up to the point that no agreement is left. The connectedness of intensity, sequence and size of conflict is illustrated in Figure 6.1. This conflict model proposes a simplified view of progressive conflict development. It is modulated on the basis of the distinct systems’ boundaries which are shaped by means of a conflict’s internal differentiation. It relates the system building processes to the different communicative styles (contradiction, blaming, threat) which, step by step, capture more time, more issues, more energy and, thus, more and more features of the social relationship. This progression, then, is the consequence of the opponent’s resistance. Constant insistence requires increased rigidity of contradiction, while increased rigidity in turn promotes higher resistance. Fully aware that the logical impact of that process model does not consider all empirical deviations to the very last detail,15 the model, nevertheless, claims analytical applicability in an ideal-typically Weberian sense. Moreover, reflecting on the diversity of empirical contingencies within each sequence of conflict development, it turns out that the processes inside the system are reversible, volatile and cyclic in nature (see, for example, the remarkable analyses provided by Walton 1969). Thus, what appears to be, at first glance, a nonrational or chaotic process in conflict development, is itself embedded into solid communicative structures referring to the one or the other style in conflict management. Quite aware of the endless phenomenological variations in the dynamics of conflict development, this model claims, nevertheless, that if there is any empirical progression in conflict development, it will be established in accordance with the self-referential dynamics of the communicated rigidity. To relate these arguments directly to the themes relevant to this book, the question can now be asked how such insights relate to territorial and social borders. In order to account for the emergence of borders, some general conclusions about the different functions in conflict development, with special reference to the relationship of the conflict parties, are a helpful starting point. Much has been said in the literature on the positive and negative functions of social conflict.16 As this chapter has attempted to show, conflict processes are best analyzed from a conflict internal perspective. With a view to borders, it is argued here that such a perspective also offers useful insights into the multifaceted functions of social conflict on that dimension. The most important conclusion to be drawn from the analysis of conflicts for the conceptualization of borders is to understand the essential significance of a communicated contradiction. Regardless of the style in which the contradiction is empirically processed (rejection, blaming or threat), it displays a social disaccord that is conditionally relevant with a view to the character of the social relationship. A major achievement of a conflict is to create consciousness—firstly, regarding the different expectations with respect to the other but, secondly, also concerning the other’s opposite stance. Contradiction is, thus, a fundamental element of social borders, in that it constitutes a distinct identity that is recognizable by and in opposition to the respective other in a social relationship. This in turn is the necessary condition for the feasibility of further conflict. A contradiction, it can be argued, is the communicated equivalent of the emergence of a distinction that structures the social relationship with respect to any social

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domain.17 A specific social domain encompasses the preconditions necessary to construct a social identity and separates those parts which belong to a personal or social system, from those which remain outside. It defines social relationships in different ways, such as ‘my position is unlike your position’, ‘this side is opposite to your side’ and ‘I am distinct from you’. Reconsidering the empirical observation that a conflict episode mostly ends in an unresolved way (parties agree to disagree), the conclusion can be drawn that the main function of conflict episodes is to display an opposition on the symbolic level. Following this argument, symbolic opposition requires each side not to give in, but, at the same time, to refrain from any further rejections. In doing so, the conflict episode marks a social domain in opposition to the other, but this marking remains ambiguous and leaves the social relationship essentially unanalyzed. A conflict episode, thus, produces social demarcation to the extent that it produces a boundary between an individual social domain in opposition to the infringements of the respective other. In contrast to conflict episodes, the function of an issue conflict is not exhausted by merely demonstrating the opposition symbolically. In an issue conflict the overall aim is to harmonize the overt differences which were established between both sides by the communicated contradiction. An issue conflict, thus, intends to (re-)establish an affirmative relationship persuasively. Its dominant practice relates to issue-based adaptation, i.e. it aims at the other’s desistance. In an issue conflict it is not the individual stance which is of primary interest but rather issue convergence. Persuasion is the attempt to reach out to the opponent on the other side of the border and to proceed in the social relationship affirmatively.

Figure 6.1 Styles and stages in conflict development. The function of a relational conflict is comparable to an issue conflict, i.e. adapting the other to one’s own expectations and, thereby, to re-differentiate the social relationship. A relational conflict differs, however, with respect to the way in which the social dimension of the relationship is addressed. If the usually unquestioned relationship becomes the main problem at hand, a structural drift can be expected both with regard to the respective communication devices (from contradiction to blame) as well as with regard to the main objectives. The primary function in a relational conflict is to restore a de-balanced social relationship according to what could be considered a conforming conduct. A conflict on

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the level of a social relationship thus primarily relates to a social adaptation. Its main prerequisite is to re-establish a normative convergence that results in an equally balanced and socially conforming relationship. The function of power conflict, finally, is neither—as one might expect—to protect the individual domain of a personal or social system nor is it the establishment of objective or social accord. Its main function is to overcome the other’s resistance regardless of the other’s reasons to oppose and resist. A power conflict thus aims, not to restore the social relationship but, rather, to uphold a superiority/inferiority distinction. In a power conflict, the parties seek subordination in that they cross the other’s borders intentionally. To summarize the arguments of this section, social conflicts differ with regard to the degree to which harshness and rigidity are used by the parties in order to resolve or decide contradictions within a social relationship. In that, conflicts aim to restructure the borders of an individual social domain relative to that of the respective other. The process starts with a symbolic social demarcation in defence of the individual social domain (conflict episode), continues (if at all) as a reproach of the individual social domain of the respective other in order to reach issue convergence (issue conflict) or social adaptation (relational conflict) and—in case these efforts have failed—ends on the level of pressure, deterrence and violent force (power conflict). On that level, no individual borders are accepted unless the threatened other has the power to resist. While the parties in a conflict episode establish and maintain social borders symbolically and while in an issue or a relational conflict they challenge these borders persuasively, the parties in a power conflict tend to cross the other’s borders forcefully—irrespective of whether this is normatively legitimated or justified.

Bordering activities in social conflict As has been argued above, the distinct features of protracted social conflict are produced and reproduced self-referentially by means of communication. Communication, thus, is the device which is used to start and to continue the processing of contradiction. Moving beyond the stage of a one-shot communicative rejection (or that of a conflict episode), the parties see themselves increasingly faced with rejections that can intensify their social antagonism with respect to their individual social domains. Following a systems theoretical understanding of the emergence and stabilization of social conflict, it can be argued that the integration of the system depends on its capacity to reproduce and consolidate its own identity patterns in opposition to the operations that constitute the identity patterns in its environments. Against this background, several bordering types can now be differentiated and conceptualized. The first distinction that is of importance here is the distinction drawn by a system boundary that divides the communication inside the system from the communication occurring outside. However, as there is no specific environment intrinsically linked to conflict, it is useful to refer—as has already been done—to the concept of ‘social relationship’ as a formless candidate to occupy this position. System boundaries of a social conflict, thus, divide the social relationship into a competitive and a cooperative

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dimension. Once this fundamental distinction is marked, a ‘system exists as a difference in relation to its environment and it reflects this difference by means of boundaries’ (Luhmann 1982b:236). System boundaries of social conflict relate to their environments by means of communication. Parties expect agreement but they encounter dissent. Each further step then is decisive in that it directs the social relationship either to the one or the other side of the border. Moreover, the social relationship is considered as an environmental resource, which ‘feeds’ the conflict system, thus pointing to the need of the conflict system for an ongoing crossing of the system boundaries. System boundaries connect a system with its particular environments in a dynamic way, since they relate—but also distinguish—the system from these environments. To pick but one example, people can relate to each other either inside or outside the system, either on this or the other side of the border, but they cannot relate to both sides simultaneously. In addition, as far as the system boundaries refer to inter-party relations, they become relevant for system membership. The basic condition for system membership is a relation of at least two distinct identities that relate to each other communicatively—in the case of social conflict this is usually done on the basis of mutually expressed contradictions. Further, members might be included into the conflict system, in as far as they refer to it or participate in expressing contradiction. Hence, system boundaries are open for crossing in different ways. While they let issues and members cross in order to participate in the system’s activities, they are, in contrast, strictly closed with regard to their basic operations. No contradiction can leave the system in order to operate in the outer environment, as this would undermine the particular identity of a conflict system. Thus, a conflict system is able to stabilize its internal structures self-referentially and, on this basis, release its full potential for system differentiation, as discussed in the previous sections. The more relations between the elements of a system are established and maintained self-referentially, the more complex and independent its internal organization is in relation to its surrounding environments. By analogy to the concept of system boundaries (that divide system and environment), it might, however, also be possible to think of social borders that divide the conflict system internally into several subsystems. As has been argued above, social borders can be defined as the result of an emergent social domain that is produced by (and will continue to produce) different means of contradiction in order to maintain and protect the individual social domain in opposition to the influences of the respective other. In the case of a social conflict, the mutual assumption that both sides interact on the basis of the same expectations becomes undermined, while the undisturbed flux of ongoing interactions becomes interrupted and slows down noticeably. To the extent to which the parties recognize that their respective expectations are remarkably different, a social barrier arises that aims to secure their individual social domain against unpleasant infringements from the respective other. Any attempt to overcome or bypass those barriers or to impel the other to withdraw, might, in turn, give reason to its further fortification, since it becomes clear that the respective other is unwilling to give in. Then social conflict might escalate to the extent that each response to a contradiction fortifies these barriers, thus extending and deepening the distances to the other’s social domain. Whatever else happens inside a conflict, it does create social distances between individual social domains.

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A contradiction, then, is the communicative equivalent to the set-up of a particular barrier within a social relationship. The objective of contradiction is to secure the individual stance, as this prevents the respective other from exerting influence or control. A contradiction, thus, marks a particular borderline—and refers to the (im-)penetrability of a specific social domain. The distinction of penetrability/impenetrability is crucial here as it makes evident what crosses the borders to the other’s domain and what is rejected. One expectation can pass, the other might not. Social borders, thus, work like a ‘membrane’, similar to a highly selective perforation in the social relationship (see Hall 2002b:48). Conflict focuses primarily on the impenetrability of social borders, while penetrability guides the social relationship to the (cooperative) environments of the conflict. The other important conclusion to be drawn here relates to the observation that there is usually not just one single border which determines a social relationship. Instead, a multitude of different overlapping borders should usually be expected, each one of them reflecting the contingent and different values and needs that individually form the particularities of the respective social domain. A similar argument relates to the concept of social identity and social inclusion. Thus, to the same extent that each contradiction stimulates consciousness about the differences of the respective social domains, it similarly affects the distinct identities of the parties involved. Identity, it can be argued, is the distinct individuality of the respective social domain with respect to its borders. It is, however, important to note that distinct identities do not automatically result in a negative relational pattern. Although each contradiction alienates one’s own identity from that of the other, it also sustains social autonomy. Indeed, this is why it can be argued that contradiction and conflict are substantial and universal identity-building devices in all human life (Spitz 1957). Identity needs contradiction in order to create, maintain and advance the individual social domain. By doing so, opposition is equivalent to the consolidating functions of self-identification and self-management.18 On the other hand, however, there is also a close link between identity and social detachment. The more conscious the differences in identity become, the higher the parties perceive the social distance between them. The concept of identity differences (I/you) thus closely relates to territorially divided social domains (here/there)19—in which the other’s stance is considered distinct, because it originates from this or that side of a (spatial) border. Thus, with respect to territorial borders, conflict is a powerful tool, since it refers to a situation in which the ‘other is there’ while ‘I am here’, thereby excluding the respective other from the individual social domain. Cooperation (or conflict resolution), in contrast, then refers to a situation in which the individual social domain cross-cuts social distances communicatively. Cooperation, it can be argued, recognizes the respective other also on this side of the border (here), while oneself is equally placed on the other side (there).20 Cross-cutting bordering ties can then be viewed as a mechanism of social inclusion, while barriers and distances serve as a mechanism of social exclusion. This connection is illustrated in Table 6.1.21 Consequently, each social relationship is unique as it is characterized and shaped by its particular borders, while the borders in turn differ with respect to the ‘individuality’ of each social domain. Social borders vary from one relationship to the other, from one social context to the next. They are normatively restricted and guided by different social

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or cultural orders that can serve as a reference point in order to legitimate the individual social domain. A border, thus, defines the size and range of the individual social domain as a delimitation to the respective other. It aims to control which principles should apply to rule a social relationship, including particular interests, needs and expectations, while neglecting or excluding those of the other(s). Social borders, one might say, mark the areas of autonomous social control in opposition to the claims and reproaches of the respective other. Viewed from the perspective of social conflict theory, the tight linkage between conflict and the closure functions of borders now becomes clearer. With each progression in conflict development, the permeability of social borders creates increasing risks, while the perceived need to protect the individual border increases proportionally. The more intense and threatening the conflict activities are and the bigger their impact on social relations is, the more the connecting borders are being closed in order to secure the individual social domain. Bordering activities then reinforce this process in a similar way in which the conflict activities intensify. Borders are open to the extent that cooperation expectations dominate the social relationship and only a few contradictions occur. In turn, they are closed if the conflict parties begin to reinforce their oppositional moves in order to trespass the opponents’ borders. On the basis of these arguments, the following conclusions can be drawn. Borders are variable and interactively co-produced patterns of a social relationship. As one party, for instance, establishes a barrier to secure the individual social domain, the other party, in turn, can accept or reject the imposed borders. Thus, conflict is just another word for the struggle about enlarging and limiting social borders—i.e. regulating the realm of a particular social domain in opposition to the domain of the other. Social borders are jointly produced patterns in a social relationship, since they depend on the internal dynamics of social conflict. To summarize, a social border marks a difference in relation to the respective other but this difference is, in turn, a co-produced pattern. In general, social borders reduce the points of contact in a social relationship. By doing so, they limit the number of linkages between the elements of a system that otherwise would form a more cooperative or consensual social domain. In a conflict, however, they define who belongs to which side of the border (Luhmann 1982b:235–36). Here, they condense the individuality of a particular social domain as opposed to the other and typically symbolize the opposition in a behavioural space. Social borders differentiate the social relationship since they establish distances between the conflict parties which often translate into spatial borders.

Socio-spatial territoriality in international relations The final section of this chapter focuses on the similarities between social borders and the concept of socio-spatial territoriality—being understood as the spatial equivalent that shapes the sovereignty and autonomy of each individual social domain. By doing so, the analysis addresses, in particular, the issue of borders and border conflicts between nation states in world society. It is suggested here that this analysis is started with a sociological

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Table 6.1 Identity and distance in social relationship Here

There

I

Conflict

Cooperation

You

Cooperation

Conflict

conception of space. This can be done following Simmel (1908:614–708), who defines space as the formless condition for emerging social relations. Each relationship, Simmel argues, has to acknowledge the fact that the elements which relate to each other influence themselves reciprocally in that they establish a border. ‘The border’, Simmel (ibid.: 623) concludes, ‘is not a spatial fact with sociological effects, but a sociological fact that is spatially formed.’22 The primary sociological fact—it could be added—that creates spatial borders is social conflict that produces the social differences which can also be spatially formed. Hence, social borders relate to socio-spatial territoriality, being characterized by distinct spatial borders. Socio-spatial territoriality has the meaning of a socially ‘lived space’ (Strassaldo 1987:16). It includes different spaces and places, spatial distances, as well as social accessibility. It connotes a sense of intimacy that gives people the impression of feeling at home, of being included in a civil community of similar identities (we) and that is distinct from other identities and territorialities placed elsewhere outside. Socio-spatial territoriality has many faces, i.e. the own room, the house, the quarter, the village, the region, the state and so on. Each personal or social system can be connected with a different concept of ‘bounded space’ (M.Anderson 1997:3). Its common denominator, however, is a particular sense of identity, of belonging and of security that is shared (and shaped) by those inhabitants living together. Thus, the image of socio-spatial territoriality is synonymous with a security-structure that ‘protects’ the identities of its members, their property and goods or the sovereignty of their spheres of influence. Socio-spatial territoriality demands a certain degree of cohesion. To the extent that it structures social life conceptually (Donnan and Wilson 1999:9), it is also structured by means of a lived space. ‘Territories are socially constructed forms of spatial relations’ (Sack 1986:216). As seen from the concept of socio-spatial territoriality, the multitude of references that relate to the functions of territorial borders on different levels of its efficiency can now be discussed in more detail. Territorial borders vary in that they can segregate different social entities, for instance, individuals (by rooms), families (by houses), gangs (by quarters), communities (by villages), ethnic groups (by regions) or nations (by states) and so on. Each of these segregations is linked in a different way to a particular segment of socio-spatial territoriality that, in turn, refers to a particular degree of permeability of its borders. Thus, a nation can be defined as the socio-spatial territoriality that refers to the realm of collectively binding decisions of the legal, administrative and political system (see Luhmann 2000a:210–20). The validity of collectively binding decisions defines the size and range of a collective membership determining the groups and communities to which these decisions relate. In turn, that forms the typical character of a national identity, as well as its system boundaries.23 National territorial borders are, thus, primarily political borders, as they limit the spheres of influence of a collectively binding

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decision. Conversely, they refer to the prerequisites of political consensus formation and are crucial for the maintenance of the main political, legal and administrative characteristics within a collective unity (Luhmann 1982b:240). Viewed from the perspective of conflict theory, national territorial borders, like social borders, can be viewed as the consequence of a system related demarcation. Hence, they are jointly produced and maintained mainly inside an inter-national relationship. International relations can then be understood as the environmental assemblage of different collective identities that relate to a particular segment of world societal space. Their evolution leads the collective entities to take into account each other more frequently. Thus, it can be argued, they provide a particular opportunity context that facilitates constant rejections. As an opportunity context, international relations shape the distinct collective identities in relation to each other and differentiate them by means of their borders. By doing so, they delimit the different identities in the form of ‘societal communities’ (Parsons 1961) that create or reinforce a collective impression of solidarity and connectedness in opposition to the other. These reflections correspond closely to the concept of a single world society, that emerges as the result of the self-recursive operations of ‘world’ by means of communication (Luhmann 1997a:150). World society serves as the encompassing superior unit (or superstructure) of societal and international systems integration. National territorial borders, in turn, differentiate the world into a multitude of distinct subsystems that again are part of the larger world society system. Their main characteristic is that they provide different opportunities for self-identification and selfefficacy in contrast to the overwhelming confusion and complexity of the ‘entire world’. National territorial borders support, maintain and protect a particular social and cultural homogeneity that establishes (equal) social and political rights for its members. Another consequence, which stems from the conflict model set out above, relates to the existence of national territorial borders as an expression of temporarily or permanently resolved social border conflicts. Thus, only the perceived risk of contingent aggression or threat provokes the perceived need to establish or fortify the territorial border between the adjacent parties.24 Moreover, territorial borders might be regarded as the outcome of a once substantial power conflict, while a contingent violent border conflict points, in turn, to the necessity to secure the collective territoriality by means of closed borders. In that, current national territorial borders respond to the contradictive collective socio-spatial claims (living space) of different ethnic, cultural, political or religious groups that relate to each other by means of socio-spatial adjacency. Closure, then, is the attempt to maintain the size and range of the collective identity and selfdetermination as grounded in socio-spatial autonomy. In that, it contributes to the social, cultural and political heterogeneity of the world system. Thus, closure maintains such heterogeneities and ultimately fixes that acknowledgement of differences by means of mutual agreement about national territorial borders. When national territorial borders become questioned as the result of a border conflict, their impact for the continuation of increased border infringements also has to be considered. In that respect, a national territorial border conflict can be analyzed as the revival of a previous conflict history that rests on only insufficient previous regulations. It is noteworthy, however, that international territorial border conflicts are today the rare exception. Especially since World War II, violent international border conflicts have no

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longer been predominant, while intra-national border conflicts have shown a significant numerical increase particularly in the regions of the so-called ‘Third World’.25 Apparently, it is neither the national border nor the international relationship that primarily leads to territorial border conflicts but, rather, the intra-national contradictory claims for socio-spatial territoriality as they are expressed by different ethnic or cultural groups. It is in particular the exhaustion and collapse of political and colonial superpowers that revive violently suppressed intra-national conflict and challenge the status quo of previously imposed border divisions. Not the trespassing but, rather, the internal differentiation of national territorial borders is currently the predominant form of territorial border conflict, particularly in the neglected and less included parts of world society. Nevertheless, national territorial borders share an outstanding phenomenological and material peculiarity, since they aim to determine the course of a borderline between two nation states, sometimes across extremely long distances on the earth’s surface. Their impenetrability, as well as their penetrability, is conspicuously displayed and symbolically communicated by different signs that indicate the particular places, areas and regions where crossing is physically hindered and where it is allowed. In contrast to such ‘hard’ empirical facts, however, the social and political meaning of national territorial borders—especially today—is less obvious. Taking into account, for instance, the ‘new social morphology’ (Castells 1996:469) of the globalized world, the notion of an increasingly borderless world that constitutes cross-tied spaces rather than places and global networks rather than national territorialities seems to render superfluous the ancient system of nations. The final remarks of this chapter aim to address this particular issue. What currently happens along the territorial borders in the Western world is apparently quite different to the violent quarrels at the periphery of world society. One might refer, for instance, to an astonishing absence of territorial border conflicts for the last sixty years in the West. Due to the mutually shared democratic culture and due to the balance of rights and spheres of influence, the absence of overtly violent power conflicts has contributed to a relative openness of present day national borders. As an overall rule, it can be argued that the threat of (violent) territorial border conflict has turned into a (peaceful) market-related competition that regulates the free flow of people and goods between nations. Accordingly, national territorial borders are still highly selective but also flexible and non-static regarding their permeability. Today, most people in the Western part of the world can pass national borders without serious hindrances, while some others may not (for example, refugees, migrants, criminals). Most imports and exports cross national borders routinely, while others in contrast are (or should be) stopped (for example, drugs, poison, plutonium). Territorial borders between Western nations obviously do not separate the different nations; rather, they connect them dynamically by exerting control upon the distinct crossing opportunities. To the same extent to which the permeability of a national territorial border line is mutually acknowledged, the socio-spatial territoriality is legally fixed. Moreover, as there is no threat of violent power use, a particular inversion of the former bordering functions as a consequence of peaceful adjacency can be observed. While overt or violent border conflicts can be attributed to an ancient conflict history (Anderson 1997:34), the concept of ‘nation’ relates first of all to the maintenance of a distinct political identity. ‘As a

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general rule we can say that territorial borders no longer limit entire societies, but only political systems’ (Luhmann 1982b:240). In that, national territorial borders function as a particular membership categorization device that is necessary to define the obligations and rights of a particular societal community in contrast to another. However, regarding the particular universalism and specification of functionally differentiated social systems within world society (politics, culture, economics, education, science, law and so on), the social significance of national territorial borders is less important in routine day to day interactions. Functional interpenetrability asks less for individual or collective segregation but more for communication, connectedness and contact. By functional differentiation, societal cross-cutting ties up more with cooperation than with conflict. Against this background, some ontogenetic similarities in social and national border conflict can be analytically discerned. As individuals, for instance, learn not to take contradictions personally and to refrain from violent measures, the ruling principle of worldwide functional differentiation also invites a more peaceful crossing of national territorial borders. Functional differentiation supports selective permeability and interpenetration of societal space. As evidence for that, the declining importance of international border conflicts, which occur particularly in those regions of world society where functional interdependence is still incomplete, can again be referred to. The same is true regarding minor border conflicts inside the European Union which occur (if at all) at its peripheries and do not affect its centre. Functional differentiation and interpenetration refers primarily to cooperation rather than to conflict, since the other’s social domain is considered an integrative part of one’s own goal realization and not an obstacle or hindrance (see Miall, Ramsbotham and Woodhouse 2001:5– 6; Wallensteen 2002:53–57). The principle of functional differentiation prefers cooperation to conflict, crossing to closure, interpenetrability to isolation. Since the idea of ‘nation’ and ‘national territorial borders’ rests on the principle of segmentary rather than functional differentiation, there is some merit to Luhmann’s analysis that national differentiation is an outlet model in modern world society (see Luhmann 1997a:1055; for an earlier account, see Konau 1977:216). However, as seen from a conflict theoretical stance, the feasibility of further social conflict can equally be referred to because rejection and contradiction are still crucial for any type of social differentiation, regardless of the empirical question whether it is reached by means of a more segmentary, hierarchical or functional differentiation style. If both perspectives are right, this points to a substantial displacement of the dominant bordering styles in the functionally differentiated modern world. Functional differentiation needs contradiction but might be relinquished from spatial territoriality. Seen from this perspective, neither external nor internal national territorial borders relate to territorial border conflicts any longer but, rather, the placeless borders of functionally differentiated social systems. Territorial border conflicts can occur in the ‘shadow’ of international relations, crosswise to the contradictions marked by different national territorial borders, and be translated into a new social order of socio-spatial opportunities that easily transcends national territorial borders. Thus, from the analytical stance of modern systems theory, we can draw the conclusion that functional system differentiation is the overarching prerequisite to systemically de-construct the production of power relations in territorial (border) conflicts. Since the principle of functional differentiation pushes the system activities to

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neglect the social, spatial and national borders, it tends to bypass and overcome societal segregation as well. New border types will emerge due to the intra- and inter-system’s communication that finally will undergo and transcend political hierarchies and power relations. It is currently still difficult to estimate which types of borders will emerge and in which way they will structure the relationship between nations in the shadow of the individual territories in a single world society system. However, by focusing analytically on the empirical characteristics of intra- and inter-system communication, this might help to detect which borders emerge empirically and what their typical functions in an increasingly placeless world are.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Stephan Stetter and the anonymous reviewers for their stimulating comments on this paper. 2 As a recent example, see Bartos and Wehr (2002:9): ‘Once we had identified the possible causes of conflict behavior, we can explain why a particular conflict exists.’ Based on such an assumption, conventional conflict theory is often exhausted in listing and mapping the obvious causes of goal incompatibility between two or more actors. Even the conflict dynamics are analyzed in a similar manner. Hostility, for instance, as the authors argue, influences conflict behavior (ibid.: 10). But what, in turn, creates hostility? Is it not much more reasonable to assume that the conflict dynamics themselves create and affect hostility and that these dynamics, in turn, spur further dynamics that affect conflict development? 3 The major problem of empirical conflict analysis is thus the impossibility of observing and evaluating the entire conflict development—directly or indirectly—in all its facets right from the start. Faced with that problem, scholars draw highly selective conclusions on social conflict relating to those particular conditions that are actually accessible for empirical observations. 4 This resembles Luhmann’s analysis of social conflict as a social system (see Luhmann 1995a:388–404). While Luhmann bases his systems theoretical conflict analysis extensively on the concept of self-reference—see especially chapter 11 of this book (‘Self-reference and rationality’, ibid.: 437–77) as well as his collection of essays on self-reference, see Luhmann 1990a, especially chapter 1: The autopoiesis of social systems’ (ibid.: 1–20)—he does not account for this concept in greater detail. 5 This makes modern systems theory distinct from theories of postmodernity. While systems theory refers to communication as an empirical ‘fait social’ of the system, theories of postmodernity mainly refer to the concept of discourse as a reflexive, ex post constructed dimension of communication that leads away from the empirical facts; see, for instance, Diez 2002:190–95, discussing Jabri’s (1996) reflections about ‘Discourses on violence’. As a current attempt to ‘de-border’ this contradiction see Wooffitt 2004. 6 The description of conflict development in this chapter is the result of extensive empirical analysis of a conflict’s internal processes as based on the communication of contradictions, see Messmer 2003. The theoretical fundaments of this study are derived from modern systems theory, while the methodology derives from conversation analysis and ethnomethodology, see, for example, Hutchby and Wooffitt 1998. The study is grounded in an empirical re-analysis of already published conversational data in different social settings (for example, private communications, radio and television interviews, judicial, therapeutical and political conversations) that processed contradiction and conflict verbally. The empirical data, thus, relates to a wide range of different actors, situations and relational contexts in empirical conflict settings. In doing so, the concept of social conflict as an internal process of system differentiation is linked to practices of empirical contradictions. The aim of this

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analysis was to identify and to reconstruct the main features in the development of social conflict right from their beginning, from a singular harmless event, up to a fully differentiated system of contradictions in which the underlying social relationship is exclusively produced and reproduced by such contradictions. 7 This triple sequence definition of social conflict (communication—rejection—resistance) is also widely accepted in conversation analysis of social conflict. (See, for example, Maynard 1985:8; Vuchinich 1987:594.) 8 This pattern highlights the universalism of preference organization for agreement and contiguity in human communication. (See, for instance, Sacks 1987; Bilmes 1988; Kotthoff 1993.) The concept of preference organization is also closely linked to the concept of politeness as a universal achievement in language use. (See the outstanding analyses of the politeness pattern provided by Brown and Levinson 1987 and also by Watts 2003, with a more theoretical account of this pattern.) 9 Diez, Stetter and Albert (2006) have preferred the term ‘identity conflict’ to classify this third stage of conflict development. I am somewhat reluctant to adopt this term, although it seems quite reasonable, especially regarding the discussion of borders (see further below). However, as one might demonstrate empirically, it is less the (individual) identity that marks the reference to that particular style, nor the difference between the parties, but first of all a behavioural trigger event that causes an unpleasant incident in relation to the respective other. 10 Simmel (1908, 1955:38) has also analyzed the distinct conflict references on the issue level in contrast to the relational level. He writes: ‘The conflict may focus on purely objective positions and leave all personal elements outside itself and in a state of peace. Or on the contrary, it may involve precisely the persons in their subjective aspects without, however, thereby leading to any alteration or disharmony of the coexisting objective interests common to the two parties.’ 11 See, for example, the ‘self-defence rule’ in relational conflict as described by Buttny. ‘This rule interactionally provides for a slot after a blame for the accused to respond to critics […]: upon receiving a blame, make a response […] lest no response be heard by others as an admission to the blame’ (Buttny 1993:38). The preference organization regarding the threatened self-esteem strongly recommends contradiction. For a wider notion of the concept of (vulnerable) selfesteem see, for example, the contributions in Tangney and Fisher 1995. 12 Feelings and emotions are important in any conflict development. On the level of social relationships, however, they are crucial to defend the individual self-esteem. As they are meaningful instruments to regulate the problem of cognitive dissonance (Festinger 1957, 1964), they contribute to a distorted picture of the relevant other and of the social relationship. The more intense and threatening the respective responses, the more intense the related emotions. For the linkage between shame and rage as distinct emotions on the relational level see, for instance, Scheff 1988; Scheff and Retzinger 1991, discussing the thesis that suppressed shame causes overt aggression; also Baumeister and Bushman (2002:603) with similar reflections on this topic. 13 This point, especially, marks a significant bifurcation regarding the conflict analytical potential of modern systems theory and research. While it is easy to demonstrate how a communication of threat introduces power into the conflict system, further processes that relate to conflict escalation, however, remain unexplained. What will happen, one might ask, after an unsuccessful communication of threat if further communication is not available or is dispreferred in social conflict? Moreover, what follows from that lack of communication with regard to the stabilization of the conflict system which exclusively emerged up to this point on the grounds of reciprocal communication? Luhmann (1979) has discussed the concept of power, first of all, within the theory of symbolically generalized communication media, while the concept of physical violence as a culmination point of social conflict, by contrast, is defined as an activity that primarily eliminates action, by action. The switch from

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communication to action, thus, indicates a logical leap in the understanding of the conflict development that apparently cannot adequately be reconstructed by the analytical means of system theoretical thinking. For various—however somewhat unsatisfying—attempts that go in this direction see, for instance, Baecker 1996; Gehring 1999. 14 ‘Something for nothing’—that is the credo of threats according to Rubin and Rubin 1993:172. See also the outstanding analysis of threats as a powerful means in conflict interaction by Paris and Sofski 1987. 15 For several reasons one might be sceptical about such a formal simplification of a step-wise conflict development. Indeed, first responses I received on this model were critical about this, suggesting that alternative process developments are also highly probable. A conflict episode, it can be argued, is perhaps restricted in time, but this would not suspend power. Conflict episodes inducing power are rather relevant especially in hierarchical or asymmetric social relationships, for instance, between mother and child or between boss and worker. Relational conflicts, to give another example, must not necessarily be viewed as the result of an (unresolved) issue conflict, but could emerge on their own, as an unhappy incident might unforeseeably occur interactively. Finally, a power conflict can arise without any previous conflict history, for instance, when it takes the form of a criminal act. On the other hand, one also should not neglect the empirical impact of that process model, in that it is first of all the inductively created and generalized result of empirical conflict conversations. 16 For a highly sensitive and influential analysis on the positive functions of social conflict see Simmel 1955:13–20. Simmel argues that each social relationship rests on a universal antagonism that oscillates between attraction and repulsion which explains especially the positive functions of social conflict. 17 A similar notion of a social domain is that of a ‘behavior space’ (Boulding 1962:3). A ‘behavior space’ is defined ‘by a set of values […] of a set of variables that defines the behavior unit.’ Thus, ‘the intensity of competition depends on the likelihood of each behavior unit moving into the incompatible area’ (ibid.: 5). 18 This is consistent with the idea, that the confrontation with ‘alterity’ supports ‘identity’. See, for example, Viktorova 2003:155, who argues that ‘perhaps the most curious aspect of the communicational functions of boundaries is their role in the processes of self-identification.’ 19 For an attempt to incorporate the concept of space into systems theory, see Stichweh 2000b:187. He suggests as a code of a systems-related conception of space, the distinction between near and far. As this distinction is only, in certain respects, related to the notion of borders, one might prefer the distinction between here and there. 20 This analysis is closely related to the conflict theoretical work of Morton Deutsch. According to Deutsch, cooperation is related to a situation in which both parties equally take into account the domain of the self and the other, while in conflicts both parties predominately refer to their own domain neglecting that of the other. This reflects precisely the selfreferential nature of social conflict as distillated in ‘Deutsch’s crude law of social relations’, which says that ‘the characteristic processes and effects elicited by a given type of social relationship also tend to elicit that type of relationship’ (Deutsch 1985:69; 1973). 21 A quite similar idea is expressed in Paasi’s (1996:14) argument concerning the forms of socio-spatial integration and distinction. Paasi’s framework combines territorial identities (here/there) with the social distinction (we/other) of a collective identity. 22 For a wider discussion of that idea, see Konau 1977. Simmel’s reflections on space are also relevant as a starting point for the analyses by Preyer and Bös (2002) on the social meaning of borderlines in a globalized world. But, as the authors see globalization as a reflex of expanding ‘world-systems’ (in plural), they deviate from the conception of a singular world society as postulated by systems theory, while, on the other hand, it remains unclear what is then meant by ‘systems’. 23 Benda-Beckmann (1999) discusses the same issue with reference to the impact of the legal system for nation building. Legal rules, he argues, must localize the people’s rights and

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obligations in space. Correspondingly, the legal system creates a kind of normative territoriality that is valid for the members of that particular legal system. 24 ‘Adjacency is potent for security because many threats travel more easily over short distances than over long ones. The impact of the geographical proximity on security interaction is strongest and most obvious in the military, political, societal and environmental sectors’, see Buzan and Wæver 2003:45; regarding the significance of adjacency for war, also see Chojnacki 1999:14, 180. This might also be seen as the main reason to structure international security more along different regional security complexes than by means of singular national territorialities. Consequently, one can differentiate the processes of securitization inside the regional security complex as opposed to the outside. 25 See Schlichte 2002 for a helpful overview and summary of current literature and related explanations about the causes and the existence of wars. Thus, it is, above all, the form of a nation, especially that of a weak state, that contributes to the internal opposition between state and communities or between rulers and ruled that might explain violent intra-state conflict. For actual statistics of deadly quarrels, also see Miall, Ramsbotham and Woodhouse 2001:22–35; Leitenberg 2004.

7 Addresses in world societal conflicts A systems theoretical contribution to the theory of the state in international relations Werner Schirmer Introduction1 Throughout Niklas Luhmann’s work, politics are regarded mainly as inner-state matters, as, for example, laid out in his main book on politics Die Politik der Gesellschaft (Luhmann 2000a). Compared to his focus on inner-state politics, Luhmann’s contributions to the subject matter of IR are rare; moreover, his key theoretical concepts have not been ‘worked out for the theory of world society’, thus further hampering any application to global politics (Stichweh 2002:290). Hence, there is still a need to relate modern systems theory closer to IR if one wants to discuss seriously the pros and cons of a systems theoretical perspective on international relations. As this chapter argues, key systems theoretical concepts do, indeed, offer enough material for such a theoretical foundation of IR within systems theory, thereby adding up to the already existing studies on this issue (see Albert 1999; Albert 2002a; Albert and Hilkermeier 2004). Given the low degree of communication between IR, on the one hand, and systems theory, on the other hand, sociologists working on systems theory may ask themselves why they deal with the subject matters of IR at all. Equally, IR scholars may ask themselves why they analyze international relations with a systems theoretical focus. Against this background, it will be a challenging task to elaborate on the key claim of this chapter, namely that there is much to gain for IR from adopting a systems theoretical perspective. Indeed, at first sight there seems to be a major difference between systems theory and IR. Basic analytical terms, epistemological interest but, also, the way ‘problems’ are looked at, varies significantly between modern systems theory and most IR approaches. Thus, any discussion on a possible value-added of systems theory for IR requires a ‘translation’ of basic systems theoretical terms into IR language, on the one hand, and an alignment of the main referent problems to a shared denominator, on the other. Such an undertaking has to challenge the commonly held perspective that the two approaches have actually little in common, as for example pointed out by Chris Brown in his comparison of modern systems theory and the English School (ES) where he argued that ‘it is more plausible that the more the ES learnt about modern systems theory, the less they would see it as potentially productive!’ (Brown 2001:436). As this chapter argues, this conclusion is somewhat unfortunate, for a number of significant overlaps between systems theory and constructivist approaches in IR theory become increasingly apparent. Yet, at the same time, it is true that a systems theoretical approach to IR will cross-cut many of the main analytical distinctions common to IR. For

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example, systems theory does challenge the strict binary distinctions between statecentric/ interdependence-centric, realist/idealist and Westphalian/post-Westphalian approaches in many IR studies. Therefore, it may occur that realists take systems theory for too ‘liberal’ or too ‘postmodernist’, whereas liberal institutionalists or postmodernists could regard it as too ‘realist’. Here, already, problems of translation between the different ‘languages’ of systems theory and IR emerge. These problems become even more apparent—on at least two dimensions—when looking at the definition of the ‘state’ in international relations. Within most classical and current IR theories the state takes on the role as the central unit of analysis or, at least, as one of the most crucial agents in the international system. Since the very discipline carries the prefix ‘international’, the relations between states are certainly of special interest. However, in most cases, what IR theory lacks is a reference to an encompassing theory of society. This does not mean that ‘society’ has not been of importance within many IR approaches. However, when dealing with society, most IR approaches centre around the question which side of the state-society nexus exerts more power on the other. In other words, is the state autonomous vis-à-vis ‘its’ society (state-centric liberalism, neo-realism)? Is it just an instrument of the ruling class (Marxism)? Or, is it the legitimate representative of a democratic people’s will (classic liberalism, English School)? The aim of this chapter is, firstly, to clarify the role of the state within world society from a systems theoretical perspective. Secondly, the chapter proposes a specific function of states in world society—namely ‘addressability’. Based on this argument, the chapter discusses, thirdly, the role of states in military conflicts. It argues that a systems theoretical approach to the role of the state in international relations should make use of the epistemological advantages of the communication-centric design of systems theory. Therefore, this chapter also takes a closer look at the systems theoretical concept of communication. As a result of this analysis, it is argued that the role of the state in world society should be taken seriously but, at the same time, this should not divert attention from the observation that the primary form of internal differentiation of world society is located on the level of functional systems, such as politics, law, economy, science, sports or religion. In other words, any new theoretical approach must be careful not to reproduce a methodological nationalism. A communication-centred approach, of course, cannot treat states as ontological units. Instead—from this perspective very close to IR constructivism—states will be treated here as a product of communication. The main argument, which this chapter unfolds in this context, is to understand states as organization systems, as implicitly argued by Luhmann (Luhmann 2000a:41, 226) and explicitly by Nollmann (Nollmann 1997:152).2 This focus on states as organization systems allows a concentration on the state’s ability to collective communication, i.e. the ability to represent the system in its environment as a system and, therefore, the structural ability to participate in communication with other systems. From this perspective, international relations are inter-organization-systems (IOS). The structure of the global political system will—by analogy to Luhmann’s arguments on the role of the market in the economic system of world society—be treated as the inner-political environment for states, within which the IOS are located. This environment does not need to be described as anarchic per se. As will be set out below, anarchy, in this context, is a self-description of states observing other states through the communication media of ‘power’. Luhmann’s

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definition of the function of the political system (producing collectively binding decisions) does not suffice to describe the specific function of states in inter-statecommunication. Hence, this chapter takes up Nassehi’s (2002) suggestion to direct attention from the fact dimension to the social dimension of meaning. Moreover, it follows Kneer (2003), in that the focus should be put on patterns of inclusion of organizations into communication systems. Because of their ability to collective communication, it can be shown that states are, semantically, in an advantageous position to become the main political addresses in world society, even in the so-called ‘postWestphalian’ order. There are two reasons for this. Firstly, in societal—but foremost in political—self-descriptions, a segmentary differentiation of the political system of world society into state-territories predominates. Secondly, states are likely to remain the most important political address of world society in the near future. This argument might be surprising, given that, today, most of world society’s military conflicts—the empirical focus of the last section—are not wars between states but, rather, wars within states. This final section will, therefore, discuss how this empirical observation relates to the systems theoretical model of the role of the state in international relations, as it is developed throughout this chapter.

Communication Most sociologists and political scientists would agree that ‘state’ is a key term for the study of politics. Notwithstanding this agreement, it is, however, often contested what is actually meant when talking about the state. Most times, the existence of the state is tacitly presupposed without any closer definition. And why should that not be the case? For most empirical research of international relations, it seems completely unnecessary to define the state. If one wants to examine negotiations between France and the US, is it not clear who, or, what, France—or the US—is? In those cases in which a definition of the state is needed—in particular for all basic theory conceptualizations in IR—one usually refers to Max Weber. Weber has described the state as a human community that successfully claims the monopoly of physical force within a given territory (see Weber 1971:506). Up to this point, the discipline(s) seem to agree. However, disagreement is already produced by quite divergent approaches to the study of the relation between state and society. Paradigmatic approaches in IR (realism, English School, institutionalism) consider states as central units of analysis, which together form the international system (of states). In this understanding, society rather is a sub-systemic unit, often used as a synonym for nation. Thus, we are used to talk of either the French, the German, or the American society, but actually refer to the population within these respective states or to so-called ‘societal’ (that means nongovernmental) agents. The English School in IR speaks of society in yet another way which goes beyond these common understandings and which competes with the systems theoretical concept of world society in offering the most adequate description of the encompassing referential system, namely an ‘international society’ (IS) of states. The usage of the term society in the English School, however, challenges primarily the neo-realist assumption of an anarchical international system of egoistic states. Consequently, it emphasizes that state

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behaviour is not only influenced by the anarchical structure but also by normative integration. In that sense, the English School term of society hardly overlaps with a sociological understanding of society. For IS theorists the term is used much loosely; usually, the ‘society of states’ means little more than an association of states whose mutual relationships are norm-governed—perhaps a ‘club of states’ would be a better formulation, but it is too late now to change what has become a customary usage. (Brown 2001:427) At first glance, Luhmann’s systems theory does not fit into any of these conceptualizations of society. The systems theoretical term of society is neither coupled with the term ‘nation’ nor with the term ‘state’. Moreover, according to systems theory, human beings are not the elementary units of society. Hence, Luhmann argues that, like any social system, society consists of communication only—and not of human beings or their actions. Of course, this does not mean that society would be possible without human beings. Communication systems depend on human beings as their indispensable environment. Not only would it be nonsense to deny the necessity of human beings for communication, but, first and foremost, from a systems theoretical perspective, it would also be wrong. Communication could not emerge without human consciousness being available in society’s environment. However, at the same time human beings and human consciousness are excluded from communication itself. Thus, the systems theoretical concept of communication goes far beyond the classic model by Shannon and Weaver, who had postulated a transmission of information from a sender to a receiver and, therefore, included both into their definition of communication. The systems theoretical model of communication should also not be confused with the concept of ‘communicative action’ proposed by Jürgen Habermas (see Habermas 1981), which gained some prominence in German IR—as, for example, in the debate between rationalists and constructivists in the leading German IR journal, Zeitschrift für Internationale Beziehungen (see Risse 2003).3 Communication in the Habermasian sense is always directed towards understanding and consent. In contrast, Luhmann’s term of communication treats consent as being, in principle, unlikely, for communication can, under any circumstances, be accepted or refused. Accordingly, Luhmann’s very conflict theory is based on the notion of refusal. Conflicts emerge when a contradiction is communicated—when communication of dissent occurs (see Luhmann 1995a:357–404; see also the contributions by Stetter and Messmer in this book). Seen from this perspective, a theoretically coherent concept of communication, upon which a complete theory of society can be founded, has both to include and to theoretically confine the role of dissent in communication. This chapter cannot account for Luhmann’s entire theory of communication (see Luhmann 1995a:137–75; Baecker 2003:38–67). For the somewhat more limited focus of this chapter, it suffices to note that communication is not understood as a transmission of information but, following Luhmann, as the unity of the difference between information, utterance and understanding. Each of these three components is a selection process that is always contingent.4 The usefulness of this concept becomes apparent when focusing on

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the recursive network of (single) communications leading to systemic patterns of communication, i.e. the differentiation of a social system. It is because of the contingency of its various selections that communication develops a momentum which cannot be predicted or controlled by human beings. This is why communication also has to be distinguished from the psychic systems of human beings in a system’s environment. In order to unfold the IR related arguments in this chapter, these clarifying comments on Luhmann’s conceptualization of communication suffice at this stage. They will be referred to further, below, when the function of states in world society and the concept of addressability in world society are discussed in greater detail.

World society, politics and the state In systems theory, society is understood as being the highest-order social system possible. It includes all other social system. In other words, there is no communication and, accordingly, no social context outside of society. From this perspective, international relations are inevitably part of society and cannot be contrasted to society. As already shown by Stetter in the introduction of this book, this highest-order system can be conceptualized in terms of a world society (see Luhmann 1975b; Luhmann 1997a), both in a structural and in a phenomenological sense. By no means, however, should world society be understood as a concept implying cultural uniformity or homogenous living conditions. This would, indeed, contradict the reality of difference in today’s world and, consequently, the theory of world society emphasizes that world society is internally highly fragmented and differentiated (see Stichweh 2000b:11; Nassehi 2003:214). Regional differences with regard to the state of development and pacification are, hence, no arguments against the existence of world society but, rather, the very product of world society (Stichweh 2000b:13). World society’s main subunits are neither states nor national societies. To come back to the comparison between systems theory and the English School, it becomes clear that, from this perspective, Luhmann’s approach of world society does not have much in common with ‘international society’ and ‘world society’ as understood by the English School. According to systems theory, the primary subsystems (for example, economy, science, arts, law, religion or politics) that have differentiated themselves in world society, have done so according to the specific functions they fulfil for the highest-order system. This has far-reaching consequences for the conceptualization of politics in modern systems theory. Although politics is an integral realm of the (world) societal system, it is just one functional system alongside others. Moreover, all of the functional systems operate on a worldwide scale, for example as a global economic system, a global religious system, a global system of law and a global political system. To be clear here, this global political system is, of course, not a world state. It is comparable in this to world society itself—a unity of self-generated differentiations. Thus, in just the same way in which world society is the unity of diverse communications, the global political system is the unity of diverse political communications (distinguished from economic, legal or religious communications).

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When looking at its internal differentiation, the political system is segmented into territorial units (see Luhmann 2000a:221; Holz 2003:40). There is no land area (with the possible exception of Antarctica) that does not belong to one of these segments. From an IR perspective, this argument of modern systems theory does not sound unfamiliar, for the territorial differentiation of the world political system in modern system theory correlates with the analysis of the system of states in most IR research. However, differences prevail between modern systems theory and most IR research. A key claim of modern systems theory is that territorial borders are first and foremost political borders and that these political borders are often not of major significance for other functional systems. This can be seen when analyzing structures of world economy, world science or world religion. Having said that, we can summarize here that, from the perspective of modern systems theory, the observation of states and of a system of states is a selfobservation of the political system rather than a basic analytical starting point for the study of international relations (see also Albert 1999:259).5 The state, being a political term, thus has to do with the functional system of politics. The question is, however, in what way? Besides the internal differentiation of the global political system into territorial segments, it can now be argued that on a secondary level these segments structure themselves into centre and periphery.6 In the centre one can find the state organizations, such as government, parliament, ministries and administration. Other political organizations, such as parties and syndicates belong to the periphery and the same is true for citizens’ initiatives or non-organized politically committed citizens or simply the total number of persons included into states via the form of citizenship. Like every other subsystem of society, politics fulfils a specific function for the highest-order system of world society. Thus, Luhmann defines this function of the political system as the ‘provision of capacities for collectively binding decisions’ (Luhmann 2000a:84), a definition which originally comes from Talcott Parsons but was slightly modified by Luhmann. This function, inter alia, relates to the capacity of the political system to ‘produce’ laws, taxes, subsidies, etc., which are all directed towards a specific collective entity. A state, therefore, takes on political responsibility for a collectivity living on a specific territory (see ibid.: 244). The systems theoretical understanding of politics is, however, not limited to the state. In fact, the entire political system—both its centre and its periphery—is relevant for ensuring the maintenance of this ‘providing function’. While these collectively binding decisions are generated in the centre, thus by governmental organizations,7 they are often initiated and legitimized in the periphery, for example by parties, but also by demonstrations or petitions. In that sense, the periphery of the political system provides the centre (the state) with important supply services (see ibid.: 245). For the purpose of this chapter, the function of the state as a segment of world politics has now been outlined sufficiently. However, what remains somewhat unclear at this stage is how the relation between states could be analyzed from a systems theoretical perspective. A useful starting point for such an analysis is the observation that there is no overarching authority, which governs these relations. Hence, neo-realists refer to the anarchical structure of the international system. States, thus, have to secure their own survival, thereby being supported by their own (often military) capabilities. Most neoliberals, institutionalists and regime theorists do also emphasize the absence of such an overarching authority, but they tend to point out that states do not clash like billiard balls

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(as in the neo-realist scenario), but that they are integrated into a cobweb-like connection of complex interdependence (see Hobson 2000:2), i.e. a set of international institutions and norms. In this regard, and in contrast to neo-realism, international relations are not primarily security matters but a (partially) institutionalized and integrated process of coordinating interests. Based on this short outline of how the dominant IR approaches address relations between states, we can now ask how systems theory sees these relations. To start with a puzzling observation, it could be pointed out that if the political system really is distinguished from other functional systems of world society, with regard to the function it fulfils for world society—i.e. the function to produce collectively binding decisions—the question arises whether international politics belongs to the world of politics at all. To pick but one example, if the US would like to cooperate with France but France says no, what does this have to do with collectively binding decisions and, hence, with politics? To ask the question in a more general way: ‘From this viewpoint, are international relations politics at all?’ Certainly they are, and there is little doubt that inter-state communication can contribute to the provision of the capacity for collectively binding decisions, often with quite remarkable effects on domestic affairs. Thus, on the international level, some states may, for example, decide to fight terrorism in a more determined manner. As a result of this decision, states often introduce, on the domestic level, more stringent measures for home security. Or one might think of the federal elections in Germany in 2002 when the German government’s outspoken opposition to the looming war in Iraq helped the governmental parties to win domestically. The inter-state level, thus, certainly has an effect on national politics and vice versa. But this leaves us with a problem, since such an argument could lead to the conclusion that international politics, understood as communication among states, degenerates to a supply service for single states, similar to the supply function of the (domestic) political periphery within a state. Based on Luhmann’s understanding of world society, two other arguments are of relevance here. Firstly, an alternative to the state-centred focus mentioned above could be to look out for functional equivalents to states (for the production of collectively binding decisions) at the international level. This search for functional equivalents has made some scholars in IR emphasize the relevance of global governance or the role of the UN, the WTO or other international organizations, such as NGOs and multinational corporations. Secondly, another alternative would be to identify a function of states for world society on the level of the global political system that is different from producing collectively binding decisions. While not neglecting the importance of the first alternative—which, however, has already received quite considerable attention in IR—the second alternative will be studied in greater detail in the remainder of this chapter.

The state as an organization One important issue has been mentioned occasionally in this chapter, but has not yet been addressed in greater detail—namely the systems theoretical claim that states are organizations. Usually systems theory talks about the state in the context of selfdescriptions. The term ‘state’ then serves as the self-description of the political system,

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i.e. the way in which the political system observes itself (Luhmann 1987a). It is a formula with which the system reflects about its unity (Luhmann 2000a:321). In a systems theoretical view, however, the state is more than a mere ‘fiction’ of the political system, i.e. it is not just a semantic phenomenon (see Göbel 2003:224). Thus, from the perspective of structures, the state is best described as an organization system (see Luhmann 2000a; Nollmann 1997:152). According to systems theory, organizations reproduce themselves on the basis of the communication type ‘decision’ and they distinguish between members and non-members (Luhmann 1988c, 1997b; Nassehi 2005).8 In contrast to other types of social systems—such as face to face interactions or functional systems (see Luhmann 1975a, 1997a:813–47), organizations are systems with the ability to collective communication. Ability to collective communication means that a person, qua her/his role, can speak in the name of the collectivity. The actions of the respective ‘role-taker’ are, then, attributed by others as action of the collectivity (and not of the single person). Of course, not everybody has access to such a role. Merely possessing citizenship is not a sufficient condition to speak and act in the name of the state. Thus, only certain political role-takers—like chancellors, prime ministers, presidents or ministers of foreign affairs—can successfully claim to represent all of the members. If country A’s president declares war to the president of country B, then normally (s)he does not mean a private war between the two individuals but war between the countries (respectively their armies) represented by these presidents.9 Being organizations, states are—like any other social system—self-referentially closed systems. Organizations reproduce themselves, on the basis of communication, through a recursive network of decisions. In that way, they bind themselves to their own habits and viewpoints with which they observe the environment (see Luhmann 2000a:239). In other words, states convert uncontrollable environmental complexity into workable internal complexity (see Luhmann 1968:186).10 The actual emergence of states is the evolutionary product of their system’s history—a tradition of decisions linked recursively to previous decisions. The system’s history is neither transparent to the system itself nor to external observers. Only communicated decisions, public statements and actions can be observed. In that sense, organizations are black boxes. In those cases in which two such black boxes encounter each other, i.e. if two ‘[h]ighly complex meaning-using systems that are opaque and incalculable to one another’ (Luhmann 1995a:109) meet, the problem of double contingency emerges. Everyone can act differently to the other’s expectation and ‘both of them charge this doubling into expected and other possibilities to themselves and the other’ (Kieserling 1999:87). Double contingency in its pure form means a completely undefined situation, in which the parties involved let their own behaviour depend on each other. Thus, they follow the formula that ‘I do what you want, if you do what I want’. This condition would, of course, block any further action (and hence evolution) because there is nothing an action could follow up or relate to—no past history, no current actions, no future expectations. In such a situation, both parties perceive each other not only as ‘Alter’ but as ‘Alter Ego’ and by doing so, they share at least the understanding that the condition of absolute uncertainty needs to be resolved. In order to solve the problem of double contingency communication is necessary. Unlike Talcott Parsons, who presupposes that such problems are already solved by means of normative integration (see ibid.: 92), Luhmann assumes that shared rules are not needed in order to start communication. Nearly every

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accidental event suffices to build structures. For example, any self-commitment of one of the participants will generate informational and connective value for follow-up actions (see Luhmann 1995a:116). Empirically, however, double contingency hardly emerges in pure form. Every social system differentiates itself within the highest-order system of world society. It can always fall back on a social environment and rely on language, forms and communication media. Seen from this perspective, double contingency is always pre-structured. However, that does not mean that social interaction is predetermined. Thus, every action is still contingent, i.e. it is a selection of an undefined pool of possibilities. The structural offers by the environment only make some communicative connections less unlikely than others. For example, if A intends to ask B how to find the central station, A and B do not usually have to agree that they are both human beings with the ability to speak and neither do they have to clarify what a central station actually is. The absolute uncertainty of pure double contingency is balanced by such structures of clarity. Nevertheless, it is, of course, by no means clear whether B will answer, whether the answer is correct, whether it is understood correctly or whether the situation may suddenly develop into a conflict. Every connection is contingent and uncertain. Whenever psychic systems or organizations encounter each other, there is always an emergent level of communication present which paves the way for the emergence of functional systems, such as, inter alia, politics. The participating systems (psychic systems, organizations) belong to the environment of this emergent functional system— but not to the system itself. This is a quite obvious statement with regard to a small interaction system among two human beings who perceive each other reflexively.11 The human beings are, of course, a constitutive requirement for the interaction system but with their organisms and their psychic systems they are part of the interaction’s environment. They are, however, included into the system via the form ‘person’.12 Thus, persons can be understood as fixed points for the social system that are generated by the system itself and that are needed for its autopoiesis. The term ‘person’ shall here […] describe a unit that can be referred to by communication, thus something that only exists within communication and only for communication. Communication can only work, if it can distinguish who utters something and who is involved just passively by understanding. (Luhmann 2000a:375) In other words, communication needs an author and an address, but not as the Shannon and Weaver model presupposes an ontologically given address. Thus addresses are the socially constructed product of communication. They arise ‘as structures of communication through reuse of external references’ (Bonacker 2003a:70). Seen from that perspective, persons (as products of communication) and their psychic systems (as the requirement for communication) are not the same. It ‘is communication, which, during the management of its self-simplification, generates […] points of attributability, which then appear as acting (uttering) persons’ (Fuchs 1997:60). Persons are the products of communication; human beings with their psychic systems are their requirement.13

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Translated into an action-theoretical language, it is not the agents which generate communication, but communication generates the agents by attributing actions and utterances to them. In any case, communication and psychic systems have to be understood as being, theoretically, strictly separated, since communication—for technical reasons—can only process a fragment of what is thought by a consciousness.

International politics, anarchy and the concept of ‘IOS’ In some respects, communication among organizations (and in our case: states) works in quite a similar fashion to communication in an interaction system among human beings. Communication among organizations, too, takes place on an emergent level of systems building. Moreover, it cannot be reduced to the characteristics of the involved organizations. In other words, communication among organizations follows its autonomous logic. This kind of communication will be defined here as an ‘interorganizational system’ (IOS). According to what has been said above, the organizations—in this case, the individual states—are the environment of the IOS. The analogy with interaction systems is also useful for another conceptual clarification. Thus, human beings are included in communication via the form ‘person’, i.e. they are observed by themselves, and others, to be relevant as an address. In the case of organizations, Georg Kneer also suggests speaking of such a form of ‘personal’ inclusion. Due to an organization’s ability to collective communication, organizations act as quasi-persons—or, to refer to Helmut Willke’s definition, the system is an agent (Willke 1991:132). At first glance, one might think here of an overlap with Alexander Wendt’s analogy between states and persons (see Wendt 1999:215; 2004). States and persons indeed share a common feature, namely that they both can be included into and be addressed in communication. A communication theoretical approach like systems theory, however, would not go as far as Wendt who argues that states have interests, purposes and feelings. Kneer’s central claim is that organizations (like states) cannot be included into an IOS as organizations since this would be incompatible with the autopoiesis of the IOS. To exemplify this point, Kneer speaks of the inclusion of ‘corporative persons’ instead. Just as one should not equate persons and psychic systems, corporative persons and organizations are not identical (see Kneer 2003:155). Corporative persons, too, are products of communication and work as points of reference, able to attribute utterances and understandings. They are, thus, addresses in communication. However, since they are also organizational systems, they are a constitutive requirement for the IOS. In more theoretical terms, the organizations (states) and the IOS are structurally coupled in the same way as psychic systems are coupled with social systems. As far as communication among states is concerned, it does not matter how the respective internal routines of decision-making of states are exactly operating or how single decisions are made—that is what takes place ‘behind the scenes’. What is rather important is the ‘front stage’ of communication. States are—as mentioned above— complex evolutionary systems, being conditioned by their own contingent history. What two states are for each other does, therefore, not ensue from any substantive, ontological qualities but is the product of mutual observation(s). What attributes and what style of

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politics they embody for each other (aggressive, cooperative), has thus to be seen in relation to how they observe each other, as well as how they are observed in their environment. In that respect, relations between states are the result of mutual observation(s) and these observation(s)—as any form of communication—are, in themselves, the result of selections. Being organizations, states create their own realities depending on their system’s history. Through the observation of other states, they collect information that flows into the production of premises for their own decision-making, which is then fed into the IOS. The Cold War, seen from this perspective, was to some extent a self-fulfilling prophecy. Whether or not the Soviet Union really had the objective to occupy Western Europe, this was not decisive for the relations between the Soviet Union and the West. Instead, what mattered was that for a long time the Soviet Union was observed by the West—and vice versa—; as an enemy. In this assessment of the relevance of mutual observations, systems theory and most constructivist/postmodernist approaches in IR come actually quite close to each other (see Wendt 1992, 1999; Campbell 1992, 1998). Another important point needs to be stressed here—the global political system itself is no IOS. Rather, it operates as the inner-political environment for states and other political organizations. Within this environment, systems observe themselves mutually as systems-in-an-environment.14 This inner-political environment works analogous to the ‘market as the inner-environment of the economic system’ (Luhmann 1988b:91). Accordingly, the political system is a ‘self-observing system. It organizes this selfobservation by producing system/environment boundaries, alongside which it can then observe itself (ibid.: 95). These system/environment boundaries do also describe the system boundaries of states with their environments. While the economy has a concrete expression for its inner-environment (the market), there is no equally accepted term for the inner-political environment—if one does not consider ‘structure of the international system’ as such a concrete term. However, the term ‘structure of the international system’ does not say anything about the character, the valid norms or the logic of conflict/cooperation of the system. While it is true that the international system of states as it is described by neo-realists corresponds to arguments in modern systems theory on the segmentary differentiation of the political system of world society, both approaches thus differ in how they conceptualize international politics. Thus, from a systems theoretical perspective, the question whether the respective subsystems (states) observe themselves as competitors for power and whether the political environment is anarchic, is not a necessary structure of the international system but, rather, a matter of political selfdescription and perceptions, which are always contingent. In a similar way, Alexander Wendt distinguishes between three communicatively generated ‘cultures of anarchy’ that have developed in the course of socio-cultural evolution, namely the Hobbesian, the Lockeian and the Kantian culture of anarchy (Wendt 1999:246–312). Wendt argues that within each of these cultures a different normative structure predominates and, therefore, defines the scheme of incentives for states. These cultures of anarchy should be regarded as modes of observation with which states observe each other. As Wendt argues, ‘anarchy is what states make of it’ (Wendt 1992) and not—as (neo-)realists postulate— per se, a struggle for power between great powers. This, certainly, is an understanding shared by modern systems theory.

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States: addresses in world society If we compare the arguments of the last section with the arguments on the main characteristics of the societal subsystem of politics earlier in this chapter, it can be seen that Luhmann’s definition of politics, which primarily relates to the definition of its function (producing collectively binding decisions), does not suffice to account for the specificities of international politics. If we were to adapt this Luhmannian definition of politics to the realm of international politics, the momentum of communication among states (IOS) would be invisible. This chapter, therefore, suggests following Armin Nassehi, who sought to focus on the analysis of politics on the aspect of ‘collectivity’. However, such a suggestion requires a more precise definition of what this ‘collectivity’ actually is. According to Nassehi, the actual function of politics is the production of attributability and visibility of the collectivity (see Nassehi 2002:45). This adjustment of Luhmann’s definition rests upon the insight that, in political self-descriptions, state functions extend far beyond the classic task of monopolizing violence. Thus, in parallel to this classical power-based infrastructure, the modern state also provides a moneybased infrastructure in the form of the welfare state and a knowledge-based infrastructure in the form of the educational system (see Willke 1992). In other words, the political system ensures that its respective citizens are included into other functional systems. Some authors have, therefore, argued that it is the tragedy of the modern state that it acquired responsibility to regulate social problems, even those which are (politically) unsolvable, such as mass unemployment, crime, racism or demographic aging. As a result of this, politics has exposed itself to a (self-made) pressure to act. As Luhmann argued succinctly, ‘there is always something to do’ (Luhmann 2000a:216). Following Nassehi, a main characteristic of the modern state is that the reference problems (Bezugsprobleme) of the political realm move from the (often unsolvable) fact dimension to the (more easily solvable) social dimension (see Nassehi 2002:48), i.e. the state does not solve problems as such but defines, via the tool of inclusion, for whom the ‘omni-responsible’ welfare state actually is responsible—and for whom not. The distinction between universally valid human rights and more confined civil rights indicates just that. Via the form of the welfare state, the political system constructs delimited social spaces which describe themselves as national publics and communities of solidarity—thus, as collectivities (see ibid.: 46). These collectivities do not simply exist. It is the political system which, in the first place, generates those collectivities for which it is responsible (see also Bonacker 2003a). On the basis of this argument, it now becomes clear why (world) politics is not only dependent on segmentary differentiation (into distinct territorial units) but how it (re-)produces itself by means of its own operations. Thus, the ‘Westphalian’ model not only works as a normative world order on the basis of territorial differentiation (see Albert and Brock 2001), but is reproduced by identity and welfare policies of the modern state. Translated into the language of IR, the Westphalian model is continuously reproduced sub-systemically. What do these arguments about the domestic function of the state tell us about the structure of the relationship between states in international politics? A useful starting point here is to elaborate further on the actual function of states. Thus, from a systems theoretical perspective, functions are always solutions for specific problems and, therefore, it can be argued that world society’s primary subsystems (economy, law,

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science, politics, etc.) have differentiated themselves on the basis of the specific functions they fulfil for world society. In that sense, systemic differentiation is a solution to specific problems of the highest-order social system. Thus, the economy manages scarceness, law guarantees stable expectations, science produces knowledge. This brings up the question of what the actual function of the state is (which is not necessarily the function of the political system). Here, the aforementioned distinction between the fact and social dimensions is, again, helpful. Thus, the primary form of differentiation of world society—functional differentiation—refers to a differentiation on the fact dimension. In other words, what factual problems have to be solved in order to maintain the level of complexity. From a systems theoretical perspective this means: how can the complexity arising from the various (and potentially conflicting) actions of individuals be handled? This is why society requires collectively binding decisions (politics) which work independently from each individual’s will. Thus, the political system of world society manages the regulation of this specific fact dimension. However, in the actual execution of this task it is supported by organizations, in particular, the state. When looking at the role of the state, the aforementioned distinction between the fact and social dimensions becomes now central. Thus, in order to produce a binding decision, politics has to ‘generate visibilities, social spaces of exclusive affiliation, inside/outsideboundaries, stable affiliations beyond preferences of decisions in single cases’ (Nassehi 2002:47). These affiliations are created semantically via the form of ‘nation’ (Richter 1997) and structurally via the inclusion of people in the state through the institution of ‘citizenship’ (see Bora 2002:77). On the basis of these arguments, we are now able to turn to the level of international politics. Thus, the differentiation of the political system of world society into states is a distinction which has structural, i.e. formal-legal consequences, for instance regarding the sovereignty of states (see also the following section of this chapter). On the level of semantics, however, it has a structuring effect on the whole of world society. Thus, in the modern world, politics has managed to gain an almost exclusive monopoly on defining powerful collective self-descriptions. In other words, politics has turned the nation state into the primary ‘societal place of modernity’ (Nassehi 2002:45). At this stage, it must be emphasized again that states are organization systems and that organizations are the only social systems which are able to generate collective communication. This has also been emphasized by Luhmann, who has argued that indispensable for world politics is the ability of collective communication of states […] Within world societal conditions one has to treat the ability of communicative representation of one segment internally and towards other segments as decisive. (Luhmann 2000a:226). Thus, states are not the segments of the global political system—these segments are both the centre (states) and the periphery (parties, NGOs, etc.)—they rather represent these segments. Since world society as the ‘horizon’ of communication (Nassehi 2003:218) cannot directly represent itself, this representation function has to be fulfilled at another level. This argument also means, that world society is not an agent to whom actions could

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be attributed to. In other words, nobody speaks in the name of world society. Moreover, actions can also not be attributed to functional systems, such as ‘the’ political system. Also functional systems are mere ‘horizons’ of communication. It is, on that level, that society, as well as its main subsystems, depends on organizations, since it is these organizations that have an address. It is, then, due to this ‘addressability’ (Fuchs 1997) that organizations prefer to communicate with other organizations (see Luhmann 1997a: 834). As this section argues, such addressable communication in world politics takes place primarily within inter-organisation-systems. This can well be studied when looking at protest movements. Without developing internal representation roles, which enable collective communication and addressability, protest movements such as, for example, the peace movement, would not be able to become a recognized actor of world politics. In a similar way, ethnic minorities striving for secession become negotiating partners (or addressable conflict opponents) only by differentiating such special representation roles. Seen from this perspective, it is quite interesting to note that the UN primarily protects the sovereignty of existing states and hampers separatist movements in their struggle for a successful inclusion into world politics. In other words, sovereign statehood is the socially preferred form of observation of addressability in world politics (Stichweh 2002:292). This is also one of the key arguments by John W.Meyer and his colleagues of the Stanford School of neo-institutionalism (see Meyer et al. 1998). The main task of the state in world society is located on the social dimension, i.e. to ensure the inclusion of collectivities into world politics. A state represents the segments of the global political system, while its specific function in world politics is to be an address in political communication. Just like persons, states have names. Therefore, they can be addressed and be claimed responsible, either by their own population or by other states. This is what happens, for example, in embargos and declarations of war (see Luhmann 2000a:194). Via its address, the state also gets reassured in its self-description of being a communicative representative for a specific collectivity. To refer to an argument mentioned above: in order to generate specific points of attribution, communication needs addresses. These points of attribution appear in the form uttering=acting agent. The system uses the address as a reference to attribute utterances and to imply understanding. And, as has been argued above, it is only individual persons and organizations that can be such an address. For world society and its political system this means that states are the indispensable communication partners in international politics. As owners of an address they can be made responsible for all possible incidents, for instance, the states Afghanistan and Iraq for putative support of terrorists or the states of Yugoslavia and Russia for violent oppression of ethnic minorities. Moreover, when the US was looking for support of its war against Iraq, it primarily referred to other states in its quest for support— and these states then cooperated or refused to cooperate. It was neither NGOs, nor multinational corporations or supranational organizations that were primarily approached by the US. One might argue, that the US tried to gain UN support for its war; but then again, it attempted, in the first place, to convince the members of the security council—i.e. specific states. An international political address (such as the one of a state) can well be maintained without the actual ability to produce collectively binding decisions. Thus, the international address requires an organization, but not, necessarily, a collectivity which

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describes itself as such and which adheres to a specific state. Some states exist on the paper and have a seat in the UN, they maintain an embassy in other states and, thus, symbolize a communicative representation although they can neither refer to a national collectivity nor stabilize a monopoly of force in their own territory. The binding effect of their decisions on a domestic level is all but secured.15 However, even these states fulfil the minimal requirement of being an address in the political system of world society and, therefore, they can be included into inter-state communication. IR scholars may think here of the distinction between internal and external sovereignty. Thus, external sovereignty depends on mere addressability, whereas internal sovereignty describes the ability of states to exercise political control on their territory (see Wendt 2004:294). Hence, to be recognized as a state, political control is not the decisive factor. To become an address in world society, states have, rather, to relate to some central normative ‘institutions of modernity’ (Stichweh 2000b:58), i.e. to set up schools and colleges, social security systems, military service, cultural and educational policy, international airports and embassies. If it wants to maintain its legitimacy within world society and if it does not want to lose its address, a modern state cannot do without these institutions. This (external) legitimacy is often more important than the (internal) legitimacy ascribed to the state by its own population. If states are nation states—i.e. if they can refer to a collectivity—states can be described on the basis of the double-sided form as developed by George Spencer Brown. On the inside of this form, the political centre ensures visibility and on the outside, the state is the address for world society. Hence, internally, the state is the ‘local hero’ (see Willke 1992). Yet, this visibility must not be conflated with the function of the state to be an address. The collectivity is merely the semantics of a cultural identity—in particular, the semantics of the ‘nation’ (see Albert and Brock 2001). Thus, it is not the ‘Germans’ but ‘Germany’ that is a participant of international communication since only the state as an organization can be reached communicatively. On this dimension, several expectations condense in the course of history and serve as pre-structures for communication between states. Each state, thus, has a history and its participation in previous wars and alliances, its record of willingness to cooperate with other states, as well as the stability and form of its government sustain its address.

States and other organizations of international relations What is the difference between states and other organizations of world society? To counter a possible misunderstanding, it should be emphasized that every organization— or more precisely, every social system with the ability to collect communication—fulfils the requirements to be an address in communication in world politics. Supranational organizations, NGOs and multinational corporations act with orientation to world society and are, thus, addresses of world society. Their decisions are, of course, also meaningful for world societal developments. For example, the expectation of country A that a large multinational firm is about to invest into country B (and not A) may have a great effect on the policies of country A, which tries to make its own economic location more attractive to foreign investors. However, the point here is that it is finally the state’s

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decision to change its policies, not the firm’s. Whatever impact economic (or any other, e.g. ecological) conditions may have on policies, it is states which make politics. Similar things could be said for transnational publics. Zangl and Zürn argue that transnational publics can withdraw the legitimacy of those states which do not act according to international norms (for example, human rights). They can do so by getting other states or the UN to intervene (Zangl and Zürn 2003:257). However, the problem of a transnational public is that this public does not possess the ability to collect communication. It has no address in world society. It can, of course, irritate states; it can get the attention of certain states; it can supply states with reasons to justify all possible policies, but ultimately a transnational public depends on states and their ability to decide, too. Therefore, transnational protest movements should not be equated with transnational governance or with the loss of sovereignty of states. From the perspective of modern systems theory, a particularly important question concerns the question how states observe their environment and how they communicate on these observations. It is argued here that systems theory demands far less from states as this is the case in most classical IR approaches. Thus, a systems theoretical concept of ‘state sovereignty’ cannot mean that, under the condition of ‘complex interdependence’ (Keohane and Nye 1977), states could control everything that is happening on their territory. Rightfully, such an assumption has been called the ‘political utopia of regulation of society’ (Lange 2003). Thus, the neo-liberal criticism from Keohane and Nye against Waltzian neo-realism (and its hard assumptions on state sovereignty) is shared by systems theory. Also, on this basis, Stephen Krasner’s argument that sovereignty is a meaningless concept, since it has, on an empirical level, been regularly violated since its ‘invention’ after the Westphalian peace of 1648 (see Krasner 1999), must be rejected. Thus, one might pose the question: how can something be violated that does not exist? Norms do, in fact, become visible precisely because they are violated. What this chapter claims is only that states are the externally (for example, by the law of nations) recognized decisioncentres of the world political system. To be recognized as such decision-centres does not mean that their policies are always approved, either internally or externally. So, why will states continue to be the decisive addresses in world society? The ability to collective communication is obviously a necessary, but not a sufficient condition, for this claim. What matters here is that states are recognized as the communicative addresses of all segments of the global political system. As long as the Westphalian model is the leading model for the law of nations and the UN, only states can be the main representatives. If the representation is accepted externally, i.e. in the communication of an IOS, a state fulfils the function of an address in communication, whether or not it is able to actually carry out collectively binding decisions on its territory. In other words, also so-called ‘failed states’ fulfil the function of a political address in world society, as long as they have such an address. To be an address in world society, the internal side of sovereignty is thus, not as central as this external addressability—an assessment that modern systems theory shares with neo-realism.

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States and conflicts How can the concepts of addresses and IOS, which have been developed above, be used for the analysis of conflicts in international relations? The main theories of IR are particularly interested in how cooperation and conflict between states emerges and can be sustained. For example, neo-realism postulates an anarchic structure of the international system of states that forces states to pursue aggressive power policy. Warrants of peace, therefore, are either a stable balance of power or a bipolar distribution of power, as occurred during the Cold War. Institutionalist theories, by contrast, emphasize the relevance of interdependence and cooperation within the realm of non-military politics, which decrease the likelihood of conflicts in the realm of security politics. Constructivist approaches point out that the influence of culture, ideas and norms on states’ identities has a decisive effect. Liberal theories count on democratic governments which do not wage war against each other. All of these approaches vary in the degree to which they attribute ‘international agential power’ to the state (see Hobson 2000),16 i.e. the state’s actual power to change the structure of the international system. Nevertheless, these theories share a common platform to the extent that they are interested in how cooperation in international politics can be assured. Hence, in all these theories the state has agential qualities. By contrast, a systems theoretical understanding of states shifts the focus to communication and asks, rather, how states are generated as agents in international communication. In that sense, systems theory does not primarily aim to explain the relationship between domestic structures and international behaviour of states—for example, whether autocratic states are more likely to wage war or whether democracies only fight wars against non-democracies. The possible merits of a systems theoretical perspective on international politics lie on another level. Thus, as has been argued earlier, states are organizations and as such they are self-referentially closed systems whose behaviour can neither be determined nor predicted. The degrees of freedom of their behaviour ‘flow’ into the communication with other systems within an IOS. Systems can always act differently to what is expected and the problem of double contingency is, hence, continuously present. However, since double contingency does not emerge in pure form but in already pre-structured forms, an IOS is always embedded within a social environment, such as a concrete political environment. This environment provides the context for expectations of behaviour, rules and modes of observation for the IOS. Although the states in this IOS (which are organizations) reproduce themselves by means of decisions, the communication within the IOS itself does not inevitably need to take the form of decisions. Most times, an IOS is based on informal communication,17 operating in a similar way as face to face interaction. Empirically, an IOS often explicitly relies on such face to face interaction, as, for example, when two leaders meet personally. In this case, not only do two interacting human beings sit there and talk, but also—figuratively—two states. What happens, then, is not only interaction between two human beings but, also, communication between two states, i.e. an IOS.

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That, however, does not exclude the possibility that an IOS can ultimately transform into an organization. If those states, that constitute an IOS, solidify the rules and norms of this IOS, an informal IOS can gradually turn into an organized IOS. Think of all the contractual amalgamations of states—for instance, the UN, NATO, EU, NAFTA or ASEAN. In this special case, the IOS (now being an organization, too) indeed reproduces itself by decisions. Admittedly, it is important that the decisions of the IOS are not decisions of the systems (states) involved in the IOS. In the case of the UN Security Council (an organized IOS) passing a resolution, this is then only the UN Security Council’s decision. The establishment of an informal IOS is the empirical reality for most relations among states. However, because of the momentum of communication it often becomes useful to formalize an IOS. This is because organization is a specific way to handle the problem of double contingency (see Luhmann 1997a:829), which can generate an evidently more stable certainty of expectations than an interaction system or an informal IOS would be able to deliver.18 The effects that these arguments have for the study of conflict in IR are obvious. Thus, within a formally structured IOS, states can better be supervised and—if necessary—be sanctioned. One may think of the role Germany’s memberships in NATO and the EEC have played in pacifying Europe after World War II. Former long-time foes—in particular France and Germany—have become partners between which an armed conflict is quasi unthinkable. The systems theoretical concept of IOS, thus, comes close to integrationist and institutionalist approaches of IR, yet without rejecting the neo-realist argument that states simply ‘take advantage’ of institutions for their own interest—for this possible consequence is by no means excluded. At the end of this chapter, one final aspect pertaining to peace and conflict studies can now be tackled. Thus, a systems theoretical approach to IR explains well why states encounter major problems when dealing with so-called ‘post-national’ challenges such as international terrorism or civil wars. To reiterate the central claim of this chapter, states are the crucial addresses in international political communication, including international conflicts. Thus, Zangl and Zürn (2003) rightfully emphasize that classic IR theories practice a methodological nationalism and—formulated from a world societal viewpoint—semantically reproduce the segmentary differentiation of world society. International peace is then understood as the absence of war among states. Most ‘new wars’ (Kaldor 1999), however, no longer correspond with this model of classic inter-state wars. For the major war-waging parties in these new wars, pillage, robbery and exploitation of refugees’ aid is more lucrative than the expectation of peace. The boundaries between war against terror, organized crime and clan-wars then become more and more fluid.19 That might be the reason why many IR theories have such problems in coping theoretically with these new wars. The systems theoretical concept of states as addresses in world societal communication illustrates the extent to which world society is still semantically shaped by the ‘Westphalian’ model. The terror attacks of 9/11 help to demonstrate how vulnerable and, at the same time, stable, this Westphalian system is. It is vulnerable not only in an ontological sense (it was human beings and buildings that were attacked on American territory) but, also, in a communication theoretical sense. Thus, the attacks had come without an address (or better: without a sender). America (and respectively the

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West) then had to create these addresses, either by way of personalization (Usama Bin Ladin, Saddam Hussein) or by taking action—in a traditional way, so to speak—against those states which were accused of having supported the invisible foe and, therefore, were subject to ‘secondary visibilization’. The actual foe, however, remains invisible. In that sense, the inter-state war by the US against Afghanistan and Iraq, as the response to international terrorism after 9/11, was an expression of how helpless states actually are. Through the communicative mechanism of ‘secondary visibilization’, the referential problem has also shifted from the (hardly solvable) fact dimension (i.e. to successfully repel threats) to the social dimension. The mere naming of foes, for instance by the name Al Qaeda, does not suffice, if the foe has no world societal address. In principle, terror organizations are organized social systems too. Consequently, they are addresses in a communication theoretical sense, but they neither obey the normative structure of expectations in world politics nor national systems of law—hence, they can hardly be sanctioned. States may ban certain organizations, for instance anti-constitutional parties, terrorist groups or fundamentalist religious communities. The problems on the social dimension could be solved that way. However, the problems on the fact dimension still persist. Thus, the respective organization does not cease to exist just because a state or a court declares it illegal. Terrorists can hide and operate from the hidden. States and their governments, by contrast, remain visible. They depend on legitimacy and legality and, hence, can easily be sanctioned—or be delegitimized—when offending against international norms. In a sense, however, this shows the extent to which the world political system still relies on the ‘Westphalian’ model, in which states continue to be the primary political addresses.

Notes 1 I would like to thank Gina Atzeni, Isgard Peter, Eveline Reisenauer, Claus Hadamek, Tobias Trapp, Andreas Wenninger, Philipp Wich, the participants of the Workshop ‘Contradiction! Territorial Conflicts in World Society’ at the University of Bielefeld, in particular, Stephan Stetter, and also, the participants of Colloquium Sociologicum at the University of Munich, in particular, Armin Nassehi, for their helpful comments. 2 As is well known within the sociological debate of systems theory, social systems (thus organizations, too) reproduce themselves by means of communication. From this perspective, a state can neither be an assembly of human beings nor an area bordered by geographic conditions nor any other ‘natural’ unity. Being a social system, a state is also a product of a recursive network of (self-generated) communication, which delimits itself communicatively from its environment. The actual appearance of states is, therefore, always a constructed, contingent result. 3 In this debate the supporters of Habermas challenged the predominantly strategic-rational understanding of ‘action’ in many IR studies with a (more sociological) type of action that relies on argumentation and understanding. 4 One can select out of an inexhaustible pool of possible information. The selection of an information is the rejection of all other possible information during the same moment and it opens new possibilities of communicative connections. The same can be said about utterances (the choice of words, the technique, the intonation) and for understanding (the receiver can accept or deny and has to interpret information and utterance). 5 This mode of observation is also reinforced, for it is the preferred observations mode of mass media. See also the chapter by Stetter in this book.

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6 The distinction centre/periphery should not be confused with a spatial/geographic distinction used by Immanuel Wallerstein in his world-systems theory (see Wallerstein 1974a). In this chapter it means that political communication intensifies in the centre while it frays at the periphery. 7 The sub-regional and local authorities are included in this understanding of the political centre. Nevertheless, it has to be a governmental organization, thus, not a political party or an association. If a party generates a collectively binding decision for a country, then that is because it is part of the government and not because it is a party. 8 In a certain respect, however, states are special cases of organizations. Organizations define themselves by roles of membership and rules of decisions. Within most organizations, membership is based on voluntary decisions, i.e. in which company to take up a job, in what charity to participate, which church to go to etc. Exceptions to this rule almost always occur in the context of the state, for example, compulsory recruitment into the army or imprisonment. Membership in a state (as an encompassing organization) is not automatically a voluntary decision by its members. Normally membership is given qua birth and a withdrawal of membership usually meets great hurdles. From the organization’s viewpoint, however, it is a decision according to the respective conditional programmes, whether a newborn child will be member of the state or not. The same can be said about immigrants. According to citizenship rights they will either be accepted as new members or not. Memberships in governmental sub-organizations (parliaments, authorities, army) have their own specific rules of membership and expectations of behaviour and can be omitted here. 9 There is another aspect that justifies treating states as organizations. The classical state task of establishing pacified spaces through the state’s monopoly on physical violence, can only be achieved by organizations. The state needs performance roles with determined rights of disposal and, therefore, it needs to be hierarchic (see Luhmann 2000a:241). Only that way, can states make and enact law, raise taxes and command police units. 10 In the words of Herbert A.Simon and James G.March it could be argued that with the help of their own network of decision rules, organizations absorb environmental uncertainty and transform it into internal, self-generated certainty (see March and Simon 1993). 11 In systems theory, (face to face) interaction means communication among people that are present in real-time. Interaction, in that sense, can be delimited from other forms of communication via so-called distribution media (Verbreitungsmedien), for example writing, radio, computer (see Kieserling 1999). Interaction systems are the most simple social system with a very low degree of complexity. Willke therefore speaks of ‘quasi-systems’ (Willke 1991:51). The systems theoretical definition of interaction is thus narrower than the general understanding of interaction as Wechselwirkung (mutuality, as defined by Georg Simmel). 12 Inclusion means that human beings are observed as communicatively relevant, either as speakers or addressees (see Nassehi 2004). 13 Just as a psychic system needs a working brain, the brain needs a working heart-lungcirculation and the heart-lung-circulation needs oxygen. Social scientists have to presuppose the existence of all these elements. 14 For each other, states are no undefined environment, as, for example, the economic system or the scientific system. For each other, states are (organization) systems with more or less agential qualities. 15 In this respect, one has to view a key state task from the perspective of self-description, i.e. to produce spaces free from violence. Indeed, the most developed states fulfil this task successfully, but many other states do not. Nobody, however, would deny their statehood. Luhmann’s statement that ‘a state must be more than a mere address in international communication. Political effectiveness and internal ability of implementing are indispensable requirements’ (Luhmann 2000a:225) should, therefore, be treated cautiously. It seems, rather, to be a ‘re-import of basic knowledge from political science into autopoietic systems theory’ (Lange 2002:184).

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16 Surprisingly, within neo-realism—the prime example of a state-centric approach—the state inhabits a comparatively weak position, a very low ‘international agential power’. State behaviour, therefore, is adaptive to a high degree. The anarchic structure of the international system defines state behaviour almost completely. A state that does not comply with this struggle for power risks its survival (see Hobson 2000:218). 17 From a systems theoretical point of view, the ‘international society’ of the English School could be described as an informal, less integrated, IOS. 18 Of course, this does not avoid the problem of double contingency Also stable expectations can be disappointed. 19 Von Trotha and Kluge speak in this context of the ‘Kalaschsyndrom‘, a relatively new form of warfare cross-cutting cultural and nation state borders. It is a combination of five elements, namely violent power of action between politics and privacy, virility, youth, victim’s claim and glorification of violence in the mass media (Trotha and Kluge 2003:499).

8 Conflicts of laws Comparing autochthonous legal cultures Alain Pottage

Introduction There is a form of intra-national international territorial conflict that has so far received relatively little attention in IR.1 What happens when a national legal system, deciding a territorial dispute, is confronted with a parallel legal culture—one that shares the ‘same’ nation and territory as itself? This is precisely the situation in which some postcolonial courts find themselves when they decide on claims to ‘native’ or ‘aboriginal’ title. In this particular kind of situation—where the project of colonization is unfinished because it is too late for the colonizers and their descendants to be characterized as immigrants and too early for indigenous peoples to imagine themselves as co-participants in some dynamic, but essentially irenic, multicultural2 project—territory becomes a very particular medium of conflict. When indigenous peoples go to the courts of the colonizer to reclaim their ancestral lands, an ostensibly unitary nation is divided into a number of incommensurable territories. Although the political formulation of these conflicts casts territory as a singular, linear, scarce and hence contestable, resource, the legal claims made on each side diffract ‘territory’ into as many terrains and as many proprietary genealogies as there are interests in play. Territorial conflict—even in this apparently primal form—takes place between (systemic) discourses rather than between persons or cultures.3 So, far from being the rawest or most primal container of social relations, ‘territory’ turns out to be a multiple medium, traversed by a multiplicity of legal orders (not just the classical triptych of property, contract and public law), each of which articulates law’s relation to a specific discursive construction of ‘territory’. In the case of disputes over land rights, the range of potentially conflicting discourses is open-ended because it involves various inflections and intersections of law, economics, politics and science—to take systems theory’s most elementary cast-list. Building on the observations made in Stephan Stetter’s introduction, one might say that systems theory is particularly useful in understanding disputes occasioned by indigenous peoples’ claims to land because it develops a ‘multilayered approach to inclusion and exclusion’, an approach that does not reduce the dynamics of exclusion to the currency of territory. In other words, systems theory allows one to apprehend the facets of conflict which are held in play in intra-national international territorial conflicts, and which are represented here as a ‘multiplicity’ of territories. As regards the legal system, the proliferation of discursively constituted territories is troublesome because it (re-)awakens law’s constitutive anxiety. Specifically, it threatens to reveal to the legal system the fact that the law is now detached from any specific, territorialized figuration of sovereignty. In the place of the single, massive founding

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paradox of old European legal systems, which was managed by the evolution of the constitution as the medium through which law was coupled to politics (Luhmann 1995c), one has a multiplicity of paradoxes of self-validation—as many paradoxes as there are emergent legal orders (see Teubner 1997a:763). These legal orders are typically global in character, as are the political or economic processes to which they are coupled, for example, human rights, biodiversity, international trade, intellectual property, etc (see Teubner 1997b). And, disputes presented to national courts often set up a conflict between these ‘world society’ discourses. Land rights cases are an example of this phenomenon because ‘indigeneity’—as it is made present in legal disputes—is a global discursive artefact. As a political theme, ‘indigeneity’ was developed in international instruments and institutions before or in close association with its iteration in domestic contexts (see Marks 2000). Hence, the (territorialized) identity claimed by indigenous peoples is in one sense a mode of participation in globalized discourses. That, of course, is entirely consistent with the conceptualization of world society in systems theory, according to which the figures of state, nation or culture are uprooted from the old (spatial) medium of territory and reconstituted as emergent artefacts of global communication.4 The fracture between indigenous and non-indigenous peoples articulates a ‘national’ legal system’s troublesome relation with world society. And there is an irony here. Conflicts over aboriginal title force national legal systems to recognize the deterritorialized processes of world society, but they allow them to do so only through the old European semantics of ‘imperium’ and ‘dominium’, which presupposed the coincidence of law, territory and sovereignty. In other words, the problem for postcolonial legal systems is that they have to reaffirm their founding myths of national attachment while at the same time reconfiguring them so as to acknowledge the global character of ‘polycontextual’ law (Teubner 2000). What happens when the complex, multiple character of contemporary law is apprehended through the archaic medium of territory, rather than through the currencies with which global legal orders are familiar, such as money, molecules, inventiveness or ‘humanity’? How adaptable is the old semantics of territory? This chapter treats native title jurisprudence in Australia as a specific example of how national legal systems address the paradoxical configuration of law, nation and territory in world society. Of course, in Australia as elsewhere, the conflict itself is considerably older than the legal formulae within which it is now articulated. Native title was not recognized in Australian law until 1992, in the celebrated case of Mabo v Queensland. In 1788, when Governor Phillip established the first settlement at Sydney Cove, it was assumed that the British Crown had appropriated the unknown expanse of Australia by means of little more than a visual appropriation of the coastline.5 In 1832, that assumption was ratified by the Privy Council, which held that Australia was terra nullius, in the sense intended by eighteenth century international (i.e. European) law and that it had, therefore, been acquired by a process of settlement rather than conquest or cession. Obviously, the addressees of any claim to discovery and sovereignty were other European nations. As Carl Schmitt observes, no European discoverer of this period disembarked with an entry visa granted by the ‘nations’ they discovered. Their claim to title rested on their ‘legitimate’ (cognitive or technological) superiority and on their ability to situate non-European peoples in (or by reference to) the known world—as

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anthropoi rather than homines. Only later did these founding assumptions come to be seen as problematic—though the question whether indigenous peoples might have ownership rights had surfaced in the discourse of colonial law and administration fairly soon after colonization (H.Reynolds 1987). The decision in Mabo—the first major, symbolic judicial act of a system which itself had only recently been enfranchised from the law of the United Kingdom—claimed to undo these presuppositions. But how can a legal system rewrite its own geo-political foundations and inscribe them in the fabric of ‘world society’?

Common law autochthony The semantics of native title jurisprudence as it evolved in Australia between 1992 and 20026 differs from that which emerged (in a much earlier period) in North America. In Canada, for example, where the first colonizers made treaties with the indigenous inhabitants, the availability of founding documents allows conflicts over native title to be ‘constitutionalized’ by attributing political intentions to old texts. In Australia, by contrast, indigenous peoples were not initially apprehended as political adversaries or interlocutors, so there are no such founding documents. Instead, the question was whether one could explain how indigenous peoples could have retained property rights despite colonization, how those property rights (native title) could have survived since colonization and how they could be made compatible with property rights as they are understood in Anglo-Australian law. In other words, the medium or means for processing the conflict were sharply narrowed to the language of property (dominium) as something distinct from sovereignty (imperium). Indeed, native title disputes are not just conflicts about territory, they are conflicts that are territorialized in the particular (and far from tautological) sense that the semantics of territory (land as a medium of ownership and rulership) became the obligatory resource for dispute processing. So the principal means available to Anglo-Australian law, in its attempts to realize a form of cultural discrimination, was the private law scheme of powers and entitlements in relation to law. Many critical accounts of native title jurisprudence have exposed the inability of the Australian legal system to recognize indigenous legal cultures. This failure of cultural discrimination also serves as the starting point for the analysis of this chapter. The binary code of legal/illegal affects a mode of closure which alienates the legal system from the lived reality of social conflicts. Law is compelled to ‘expropriate’ social conflicts by ‘metabolizing’ their energies in its own process of self-reference. But the closure secured by the operational closure of the legal system is in some sense compensated for by observational closure, which articulates the re-entry of the distinction between law/nonlaw into the process of legal argumentation. The distinction between law and non-law is used within law to allow arguments to refer either to internal legal operations or to external social operations (Teubner 2001a). What is interesting here is the sense in which the expansive gesture of re-entry generates a specific legal image of society, one that allows for the evolution of semantic complexities which would be impossible if law’s conceptions of territory were just ‘read off’ from the world. There is indeed more ‘society’ in law than there is ‘law’ in the society that law is conventionally supposed to hold together. But, pursuing the theme of alienation or expropriation, these enacted

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realities remain autonomous, i.e. they are the semantic currency into which all arguments from ‘social’ justice or utility have to be converted. And, most importantly, they are tested not against ‘reality’ but by future argumentational strategies within law. That is the mode in which law’s alienating representations become productive. The virtue of expropriating conflicts is that one definitively gets past the point at which an assertion of right is just a means of prolonging (and reinvigorating) conflict. Of course, there once was just this sort of relation between law (right) and territory. ‘Territory’—and its legal correlate, sovereignty—was constituted and sustained by the agonistic polarity of conflict. In that sense, even before the advent of world society, territorial boundaries were already a kind of communicational or symbolic artefact. Louis XI. famously characterized himself as l’araignée universelle (the universal spider). Perhaps, rather than taking this phrase as the emblematic motto of a great centralizing monarch, one should give it its face value. A spider realizes its territory in a very particular way, as a correlate of the interests and expectations which are spun into the filaments of its web. The ‘territory’ is the set of movements or events which engage (and which are disclosed by) these expectations. Territorial sovereignty materialized its territory in a similar fashion, as the correlate of a set of boundaries which could be proved in their breach or transgression. The populations and resources which later became central to projects of governmental administration were abandoned to themselves. To borrow Paul Veyne’s intriguing phrase, territory was abandoned to ‘human fauna’ (in the legal sense, ‘fauna’ describes animals which become a legal res or entity only if or when they are reduced to possession). The point is that ‘territory’—or territorial boundaries—constituted the symbolic currency in which relative powers measured themselves against each other. Whereas many contemporary understandings of territory still follow Isidore of Seville’s derivation of ‘territory’ from ‘terror’, the point of drawing out this ‘transversal’ axis of strategic communication is to suggest that the ‘territory’ was just one side of a symbolically articulated distinction rather than a material feature of the world. This is significant in terms of the adaptability of the old European semantics of law, territory and sovereignty. But there is another observation prior to that. In the AngloAustralian common law, the language of territory actually produced territory. The discursive machinery of the common law articulated the essential paradox of autochthony. It sprang discursive roots which ramified backwards to constitute the ground from which they emerged. And, in the spirit of Gertrude Stein’s epigram—‘what good are roots if you can’t take them with you?’—legal doctrine imagined that the common law travelled with its subjects. It hath been held that, if an uninhabited country be discovered and planted by English subjects, all the English laws then in being, which are the birthright of every English subject, are immediately there in force. But this must be understood with very many and very great restrictions. Such colonists carry with them only so much of the English law as is applicable to the condition of an infant colony. (Blackstone 1765:106–7)

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The common law itself was autochthonous and its subjects were juridically indigenous to whatever lands they colonized, precisely because legal territoriality was a matter of selfidentification before it was realized as a sphere of physical power. Again, what is significant is the law’s ability to (re-)invent its own localization.

Radical title The leading nineteenth century cases held that when the British Crown asserted sovereignty (imperium) over the continent of Australia it also, in the same political gesture, acquired ownership of the land itself (dominium).7 So, the most crucial manoeuvre in the Mabo decision was the countervailing argument that imperium did not necessarily entail dominium. As the judges put it, when the Crown asserted sovereignty over Australia it acquired only a ‘radical title’ to the territory, which implied a right to make or unmake property rights in the land but not dominium as such.8 As a result, any indigenous property rights existing at the time of colonization would survive until the Crown determined to ‘extinguish’ them. This complemented the other finding of Mabo, namely that Australia was not terra nullius at the time of colonization, either in fact or in fiction and that there had been existing indigenous institutions of land ownership. What role does the notion of ‘radical title’ play in adapting the old European problematic of imperium/dominium to the realities of world society? The phrase emerged from a decision of the Privy Council in 1901 relating to the rights to land of Maori peoples in New Zealand,9 which was followed two decades later by a decision in which the Privy Council characterized the rights held by the British Crown following its acquisition of the island of Lagos (in Nigeria) as ‘radical title’. In both cases, the essential distinction was between the jurisdictional powers of the Crown (radical title) and the indigenous system of property (native title) which the Crown’s radical title supported and enfolded. With respect to the question of Lagos, the British Consul of the time expressed the nature of the relation between radical title and native title by observing, in response to protests made by native land owners, that ‘far from depriving them of their private property the cession [of sovereignty of radical title] will render it more valuable to them’.10 Of course, the basic political theme of radical title goes back to John Locke’s distinction between property and government, if not further, to Wilhelm von Ockham and John of Paris, who also distinguished between the different qualities and degrees of jurisdictional or dispositive power (whether spiritual or temporal) that persons might have over things. But in late twentieth century jurisprudence, the phrase came to articulate a rather complex legal predicament. Thus, how could the semantic resources of the old legal and political theoretical characterization of territory be recalibrated to the temporal form of decisions rather than the spatial frame of territorial boundaries? The concept of radical title holds the multiple territories, that compose world society and which are forced into contradiction by conflicts over aboriginal title, in a state of unresolved or suspended articulation. Land rights’ disputes have this kind of disaggregating or de-differentiating effect because the normative fantasy that one might begin again with the distribution of land returns law’s many territories to their supposedly ‘common’ and primal territory. Native title jurisprudence recruits the formula of radical

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title as a way of managing the paradoxes which are revealed by the attempt to force multiplicity (back) into unity. Specifically, ‘radical title’ provides a suitably opaque and flexible formula of articulation. As a singular and multiple emblem of origin it reconciles the old European image of territorial sovereignty, which remains an ineradicable part of legal semantics, with the multiple origins of polycontextual law. ‘Radical title’ describes an origin of variable geometry. It refers to a multiplicity of territories. The first is the international territory which, in Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s terms, embodies and externalizes the persona ficta of the state and which cannot easily be distinguished from the internal territory of domestic land ownership because it is dependent upon the appropriative activities of that state’s citizen-subjects. Secondly, there is the terrain of private property which, as a differentiated order of legal right, has to manage its own specific paradoxes of origin and derivation and which is coupled to specific, recurring conflicts between credit, family and administration. Thirdly, territory can be defined as a resource for the object of administrative initiatives, where land is a multidimensional resource which can be composed into various territories (either directly or vicariously) in the pursuit of various kinds of administrative project.11 Fourthly, the vestigial or spectral territory of Australia in the immediate pre-colonial era is regarded as the yet un-inscribed or undifferentiated territory that would be the primal ground of law’s many territories. The language of native title jurisprudence is not the best place to begin in seeking to understand the semantic potential of ‘radical title’. Schmitt was much taken by the legal formula of ‘radical title’, perhaps because of its deceptively Hobbesian allure. It seems probable that Schmitt found the phrase in M.F.Lindley’s work of 1924, The Acquisition of Territory in International Law, which digested a set of early twentieth century House of Lords cases in which ‘radical title’ described the jurisdictional power held by the British Crown in its dealings with native title. In Schmitt’s sense, radical title describes the original inscription of land in law. The process of taking lands, which is fundamental both internally and externally, precedes any distinction between public law and private law, between public power and private property or between imperium and dominium. The process of taking land is therefore the original form of constituent legal event [Rechtsvorgang], externally (with regard to other peoples) as much as internally (with respect to the country’s ordering of land ownership and inheritance). It creates the most radical of all legal titles, radical title in the fullest sense of the word. (Schmitt 2001:52) This original trace or inscription is constitutive of both law and land and the relation between the two is modulated by an economy of openness/closure. The first appropriative trace delimits land by inscribing it with the genetic principles of spatial order. It produces a territory by giving land history, spatiality and purpose. At the same time, it exposes that order to the irritations provoked by environmental events which inevitably exceed the representational capacities of any spatial order. So, seen from the perspective of law, the original inscription is much like the blueprint or ground plan that is continually rewritten in the process of building from it. And, like all ‘autochthonous’ origins, this origin is an emergent effect of those practices for which it serves as a founding presupposition. For

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Schmitt, of course, the form of this chiasmus was most appropriately cast as the paradox which relayed constituent power to constituted power, decision to norm or violence to law. In other words, ‘radical title’ clothed law’s founding paradox in the archaic idiom of territory. In what sense does Schmitt illuminate the legal-doctrinal predicament indicated by late twentieth century references to ‘radical title’? For some, the appeal of Schmitt lies in his dramatization of the violence of law’s founding event. ‘Radical title’, as it is conceived in native title jurisprudence, is presented as a continuation (through re-iteration) of the violence of Australian law’s founding event (Motha 2002). Systems theory offers its own variation on the theme of arbitrary violence, but only so as to draw out the (de)constructive violence that law does to itself in pursuing differentiation (Teubner 1997a). As against Kelsen, Schmitt may have been right to insist that—even in times of ‘normal’ constitutional government—legal cognition and argumentation cannot make the distinction between legal and illegal merely by referring to a fundamental norm, but that the legal system needs to refer beyond itself to some political instance of constituent power. And he was right that this gives rise to a paradox. Hence, constituent power is simultaneously included and excluded from law because law purports to embrace and account for a dimension of fact or force to which it is subordinated. But none of this implies that constitutions are constantly attended by the spectre of martial law. Rather, constituent power is an artefact that the legal system constructs for itself as a way of managing its own paradoxes of self-reference. Once inscribed in the form of the constitution, the figure of constituent power allows the law to refer to an origin which is adapted to change and contingency and which is more plausible than any reference to natural law or simple positive law. And, because the distinction between legal/illegal is controlled by the distinction between constitutional/ unconstitutional, the legal system can hold something to be legal or illegal without lapsing into the tautology of saying that it is legal or illegal just because the law says so. In other words, the form of the constitution is one of those schemata which ‘lifts’ the operational closure of the legal system into observational closure. Constituent power is indeed simultaneously inside and outside law, as Schmitt argued, but the relation between law and politics is one of structural coupling, i.e. the constitution is a political text which used to (de-) construct law’s paradoxes of self-reference, just as it is a legal text which serves to (de-)construct the self-reference of politics.12 So, rather than celebrate the paradox of sovereign power as such,13 it is more productive to ask how the notion of ‘radical title’ ‘invisibilizes’ or ‘constitutionalizes’ the paradoxes that are exposed by the multiplication of territory. Although Schmitt used old European materials to (re-)construct the chiasmus of law/territory, his analysis also pointed beyond itself, to the results of an evolutionary process which soon made his brand of theoretical ‘decisionism’ seem outdated. Schmitt’s account of law’s territorialization was intuitively aware of its own location in the emergence of a form of society—world society—whose modes of paradoxification could not be reached through the lens of a critique of mastery or sovereignty. In systems theory terms, the trouble with celebrating the moment of arbitrary violence in ‘radical title’ is not just that one takes the least productive approach to paradoxification, but also that one remains in the thrall of precisely the kind of political or normative imagery that one seeks to criticize. From the perspective of systems theory, the old paradigm of ‘mastery’ is finished. Sociologically, the old asymmetries of sovereign/subject or

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autonomy/heteronomy are supplanted by the distinction between system and environment. Perhaps ‘sovereignty’ survives and to the extent that it could still be named as such, it might be seen as an attribute of the environment. It is the environment (or the systems that ‘occupy’ it) which holds the power to undo the expectations and interventions of its correlative system. If there is mastery, it is in the paradoxical form of ‘heterarchy’—‘mastery without a master’ (Anton Schütz, as cited in Teubner 1997a:783). It is an effect of the co-constitution of system and environment. In what sense does Schmitt’s analysis point beyond itself to the ‘unmastered’ configuration and differentiation of world society? Schmitt’s appropriation of ‘radical title’ binds law to earth, but it quite explicitly does so in order to recount the historical process through which land was eclipsed by sea and air and in order to anticipate the ulterior effects of that process. From the start—and from the moment when English sea power irrupted into an established land-based spatial order—sea was already the undoing of land. Precisely because the sea could admit of no inscriptions, it prefigured what Schmitt called ‘the modern condition of complexity’ (Schmitt 2001:305–20). For Schmitt, the eclipse of landed territoriality could be traced through the progress of military technologies—from the old legal rule that territorial seas extended as far as the range of cannon (precisely because this defined the ability of landed power to gather sea to itself) to the more recent technologies of submarine warfare and aerial bombardment, which effectively turned the difference between near and far into the consequences of deterritorialized strategies. Schmitt was writing in 1955, before contemporary technologies of communication—which tend to be military in their genesis more than in their applications—shrunk the world even more dramatically. The result was the global expansion of what Schmitt called ‘abstract space’—an environment which is constituted by inscriptions but which only admits of inscriptions that are sustained communicatively (systemically) rather than stabilized materially (or territorially). In that sense, and to the extent that world society could be said to have genealogy, Schmitt provides an exemplary historical account of how territory was abstracted into time. The advantage of Schmitt’s preference for territory or spatiality is that it sets out the ethos or configuration of the old semantics of constituent/constituted power or internal/external territory, which remains central to the vocabulary of ‘radical title’. The corresponding disadvantage is that, although Schmitt imagines space or territory as the condition of possibility of boundaries or boundary-drawing,14 the preference for space occludes the sense in which time is not a historical or tellurian condition of possibility in the same sense as space. The temporality in which boundaries are incised in world society is the ‘private’ or internal time of systems, so that each boundary is localized only in the internal historicizing and spatializing schemata of each system. So, although ‘radical title’ re-memorizes a particular, spatial diagram, that diagram is re-memorized within the temporal culture of a legal system whose engagements are entirely with and within world society. The shift to what Schmitt calls ‘abstract space’ is a shift to a condition of possibility (for distinctions and self-observations) which is not generalizable beyond a given system. Although the problematic relation between constituted and constituent power and the accompanying image of sovereignty or mastery remain part of the semantics of radical title, performatively the semantics of mastery are deployed as a way of articulating a somewhat different kind of relation—namely, the internal relation of self-transcendence which allows a system to observe its own operations. And this

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internal relation of self-transcendence is precisely that which articulates a system’s participation in ‘heterarchy’. To the extent that it still exists, arbitrary violence is an internal fiction of the legal system. It is certainly not an effective attribute of the legal or political systems, which are always exceeded by their correlative environments. In that sense, one might even say that Schmittian negativity is less useful in understanding the condition of world society than Hegelian negativity, which offers some insights into unfinished multiplicity.15

Contemporary feudalism In Australia, the legal form of land law—the legal rules and administrative practices which organize the transfer and acquisition of property rights in land—was the only official formula for addressing land rights disputes. The judges acknowledged that the private law scheme of land law would soon fall apart into a multiplicity of legal forms. ‘Radical title’ links international and constitutional law notions with those which support the private law of proprietary rights and interests in land’.16 Nowhere is this more obvious than when a claim to native title relates to the territorial seas. Given that the territorial seas are—from a legal perspective—beyond the reach of the common law, that the radical title upon which native title is premised is entirely co-extensive with the territorial domain of the common law and that sea (as Schmitt so acutely observed) is the unity of so many territorial distinctions, the determination of such a claim diffracts radical title into its most expansive articulations.17 But for the most part, legal doctrine tends to focus on the simplest or most basic of radical title’s capacities of articulation, namely its role as the hinging linkage between imperium and dominium. The reason is simple. The affirmation in Mabo that ‘radical title’ was ‘a postulate of the doctrine of tenure and a concomitant of sovereignty’,18 emphasized the legal theory of feudalism as the paradigm which explained the articulation of rights and powers in land. In its encounter with the ‘other’ autochthonous system of laws in Australia, the common law insisted on the old talisman of feudal ordering. There is no doubt that this way of imagining the origin of property rights was entirely fictional and was already a fiction when it was absorbed into legal doctrine some centuries ago. The legal theory of feudalism—which has since undergone its own process of internal evolution—was largely invented by late mediaeval lawyers in their attempts to provide a retrospective justificatory genealogy for rights acquired quite opportunistically (S.Reynolds 1994). Rather than dwell on the entirely fictitious nature of legal feudalism, it is more interesting to notice the peculiar virtue of feudalism’s logic of ‘anti-differentiation’. In one sense, the feudal model of radical title seems reductive. Radical title is imagined in almost topological terms, as a layer of normative space that is entirely co-extensive with the material substance of land. ‘[T]he theory of our land law is that the radical title of the Crown lies between the physical land and a freehold estate in it’.19 But this formulation already reveals the ‘articulative potential’ of radical title. Semantically, the image of Crown right offers a reference point which affirms the moment of territorial sovereignty at the same time as it links that notion to the multiple territories of polycontextual law. Partly because the Crown itself has many personae, the image of Crown right allows the courts to provide a doctrinally plausible origin and genealogy for various territories that

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have to be (re)constituted as a result of native title litigation. So, in emphasizing that radical title—meaning the power(s) attributed to the Crown—is ‘merely a logical postulate’,20 legal doctrine turns imperium into a variable and complex principle of articulation. Whereas Locke’s and Rousseau’s presentations of the relation between imperium and dominium were predicated on the old legal premise that a single thing—or part of a thing—could not have more than one owner, the reduction of imperium (radical title) to a polyvalent origin of rights (or, to paraphrase Lévi-Strauss, a polyvalent signifiant zéro) allows the multiplicity of territories to have one origin. And in this sense, radical title reconciles the image of a single founding paradox with the many paradoxes of polycontextual law. How, precisely, does this work? At some point, the incommensurable territories that are held in (productive) suspension by the concept of radical title are forced into contradiction. As much as possible, the common law denies any competence in cultural discrimination and professes its reluctance ‘to impose common law concepts of property on peoples and systems which saw the relationship between the community and the land very differently from the common lawyer’.21 In these terms, law is not the appropriate medium of conflict resolution.22 But comparison becomes inevitable and the semantic potential of ‘radical title’ becomes invaluable, when the courts are faced with the question of ‘extinguishment’. Given that the Crown’s ‘radical title’ comports a power to take land and that, as an early twentieth-century Privy Council decision put it, native title is a ‘burden’ on ‘radical title’, native title will only survive for so long as the Crown does not convert its ‘radical title’ into full ownership or, in the feudal idiom, plenum dominium. At that point, native title will be said to have been extinguished.23 In practice, the Crown (in its various personae) made numerous grants of land from the moment of colonization through to the late twentieth century. In doctrinal terms, extinguishment is a matter of intention. But how, throughout the ‘long nineteenth century’, could the Crown have ‘intended’ to extinguish property rights that were not recognized to exist until 1992? Precisely in this context it is quite revealing that the relevant agents assumed that they were not dealing with property rights. ‘[T]he gist of Mabo [No 2] lay in the holding that the long understood refusal in Australia to accommodate within the common law concepts of native title rested upon past assumptions of historical fact, now shown then to have been false’.24 The challenge, according to one judge, was to ‘revisit the past to produce a result, wholly unexpected at the time, which will not cause undue collision and strife in future’.25 But this brought with it a correlative problem: There remains lacking, at least in Australia, any established taxonomy to regulate such uses of history in the formulation of legal norms. Rather, lawyers have been bemused by the apparent continuity of their heritage into a way of thinking which inhibits historical understanding. Even if any such taxonomy were to be devised, it might then be said of it that it was but a rhetorical mechanism devised to render past reality into a form useful to legally principled resolution of present conflicts. (Gummow J., in Wik Peoples v Queensland (1996)).

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This is uncannily close to the F.W.Maitland inaugural lecture at Cambridge in 1911— with the title ‘Why the History of English Law is not Written’—in which he observed that lawyers tended to make bad historians because they confused the logic of authority with the logic of evidence.26 Historians want evidence, but the common law purports to evidence its own origins and acts. And, in continually stirring up the past in the search for authority for legal principles invented in the present, it only perverts and misunderstands its own past. Perhaps this just complements Luhmann’s observation that the common law did not change its orientation, from the past to the future, quite as readily as civil law systems and that it could not therefore give up on the past as a resource for legitimation and ‘abandon’ it to historical research (Luhmann 1995c). The common law (still) insists on being an autochthonous knowledge practice. ‘Autochthonous’ in the sense that it has no origin other than that which it manufactures for itself and out of itself, in the present. Autochthony has political uses which have been recognized in the English tradition since the time of Sir Matthew Hale. In late twentieth-century Australia, the common law’s unformalized feeling for case and context—its ability to evolve into rightness— might be said to have authorized the political and social ambition of ‘freeing up of the present’ (Povinelli 2002:154).27 In terms of radical title, what is significant is not only the common law’s ability to mobilize the past into any number of futures, but also its capacity to legitimate this use of time as a flexible, internally-constituted resource for self-observation by reiterating the old common law myth of casuistic instrumentality— that is, the common law’s mythical ability to absorb novel events and decisions into a past that is continually remade as occasion demands. In that sense, ‘intention’ becomes a device for attributing genealogies to territories and for relaying these genealogies back to a common origin in Crown right.

Land in law In accordance with long-standing protocols of legislative interpretation, native title jurisprudence presents ‘extinguishing intention’ as a formal artefact rather than a substantive psychic event.28 That, of course, is precisely what follows from legislation as a structural coupling between law and politics. Given that most ‘extinguishing acts’ took the form of the grant of a property right, ‘intention’ could be read off from the terms of the proprietary grant. In other words, the Crown is presumed to have intended to achieve the effects consistent with the powers inherent in the particular property right that it chose to grant (for example fee simple, lease, etc). The question then was, what kind of rights does the owner of a given property right acquire and what room (if any) does that right leave for native title rights? So, the question whether extinguishment has occurred will depend on whether the Crown granted property rights that are ‘inconsistent’ with the particular native title interests which exist in respect of a particular area of land, i.e. ‘native title to a particular parcel of land can be extinguished by the doing of an act that is inconsistent with the continued right of Aborigines to enjoy native title to that parcel’.29 But if the two legal cultures are truly incommensurable, how can one have consistency or inconsistency between them? From what meta-territorial position does one compare two legal-cultural realizations of territory? Native title jurisprudence insists that inconsistency is to be measured from the perspective of the common law rather than from an

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examination of facts ‘on the ground’. The common law deals in rights not facts and since the grant of, for example, a fee simple creates a right of exclusive possession, there is simply no room left for any adverse rights. Native title is fragile or vulnerable because it can, as one judge put it, be ‘blown away’30 by a truly exclusive property right. But extinguishment can also be a matter of degree. The other leading decision in native title jurisprudence—Wik Peoples v Queensland (1996)—concerned a species of proprietary right that was held to be sui generis to Australia. Pastoral leases were granted only for specific agricultural purposes, usually cattle grazing and they were granted subject to various conditions, the object of which was to promote the improvement of the soil and the economic productivity of the land. For example, pastoral lessees were required to stock ‘their’ land with sheep and cattle to a certain degree and if that condition was not fulfilled the lease would be subject to forfeiture. To that extent, these forms of property looked less like private property rights than instruments through which the Crown exercised a continuing control over land. According to one colonial administrator, pastoral leases were granted for the ‘protection of administration’.31 And this continuing administrative interest was reflected in other provisions of pastoral leases. For example, in Wik, one of the leases reserved ‘the right of any person duly authorized in that behalf by the Governor of Our said State in Council at all times to go upon the said Land, or any part thereof, for any purpose whatsoever, or to make any survey, inspection, or examination of the same’. This clause, taken with others limiting the rights of the lessee, was significant in legal terms because it could be taken to suggest that the ‘intention’ of the Crown was not to grant exclusive possession of the land and that the grant of a pastoral lease would extinguish native title rights only to the extent that the activities of the pastoralist were factually inconsistent with the activities of the indigenous people. This notion of ‘partial extinguishment’ was significant because most of the land which is subject to native title claims in Australia is held under lease. The success which the Wik case represented for indigenous claimants was short-lived because the decision was reversed by legislation some two years after it was made.32 But, if one remains within the discursive logic of native title jurisprudence, the decision was symptomatic of a sustained current of judicial argumentation which expanded ‘radical title’ into considerably more than a feudalistic fiction of origin. Crown right was not restricted to the private law scheme of property law but was understood as an administrative or governmental power to balance various discursive territories. This is precisely what emerged from a somewhat arcane aspect of reasoning in Wik. The question whether pastoral leases totally extinguished native title rights also turned on the question whether, in granting the lease, the Crown necessarily acquired a future interest in the land which would come into its possession when the lease came to an end—which is what strict private law logic dictated—or whether the pastoral lease should instead be seen as an administrative instrument.33 The idea that property rights were instruments of administration and that their scope and configuration should be understood by reference to those purposes, as much as to private law logic, recurs throughout the evolution of native title jurisprudence. One decision, in holding that the Crown could not hold property in the manner of a private individual, goes so far as to say that property may just

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be an illusion.34 These discursive manoeuvres expand the notion of Crown right (articulated as ‘intention’) into a resource for the legitimation of decisions by playing on the potentialities of an undifferentiated blend of imperium, dominium and administrative or regulatory power. Inevitably, there were limits to the expansion of radical title. Not all property rights could be extricated from the postfeudal logic of private property. For example, a fee simple (freehold) interest was assumed to extinguish native title automatically because it constituted a kind of ‘private sovereignty’ in land.35 This entirely overlooks the reality, which was recognized in relation to pastoral leases, that in Australia, as elsewhere, any interest in land comes into being and is transferred within a dense network of regulatory norms and private law criteria such as planning restrictions, restrictive covenants and credit regulations. Perhaps one could see in the sanctification of the logic of private property a particular kind of self-awareness. It is almost as though the common law exploited its encounter with aboriginal notions of land ownership to reaffirm its own fantasies about the nature of property and to ‘purify’ property rights of the complex relations in which they were entangled within the common law. Yet, in a sense the argument for refusing to treat property rights other than the pastoral lease as open to recalibration—‘it would introduce a dangerous uncertainty in the entitlements to land of all people in Australia to introduce such a principle’36—was based on a concern to conserve existing arrangements in which ostensibly singular property rights or transactions articulate a number of different intersystemic relations. In a negative sense and by means of this kind of purification, the judges seem to have rediscovered the old truth that property relations are social relations and that the grammar of ownership is, indeed, open to polycontextuality. In conclusion, however, one should notice the limits of the concept of ‘radical title’. The fracture between indigenous and non-indigenous peoples may be the difference that introduces the complexities of world society into the old, internal territorial order of the ‘national’ legal system. But it is also the one territorial distinction that cannot be accommodated in the reconstructed semantics of ‘radical title’. Although nothing in the configuration of world society resists the idea that a national legal system might be calibrated to two (political) models of sovereignty, ‘radical title’ is premised on a singular instance of sovereignty. Although the model of Crown right articulates singular and multiple origins, the persistence of the old model of territorial sovereignty means that the articulation of singular and multiple origin has to be conserved. The office of territorial sovereignty cannot be divided and territorial multiplicity is conceivable only in relation to this singularity. It follows from the distinction between ‘radical title’ and ‘native title’ that indigenous cultural identity can only be understood in relation to this singular instance of sovereignty. And that, of course, is to miss the real point of this form of territorial conflict. Is it right for the law to hold that ‘inconsistent rights granted for one day [should] bring to an end the native title of an aboriginal community dating back hundreds of years’?37 Should not one insist on some notion of ‘proportionality’ in the conflict between indigenous and non-indigenous property, so that ‘where native title is a permanent right to land, only a law or act which has permanent consequences adverse to the existence of [that right] will extinguish native title’?38 The logic of ‘radical title’ as it has evolved in Australia has excluded these arguments precisely because they introduce the idea of potential

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indigenous sovereignty. Indigenous territories can be admitted, only to the extent that they can be represented as spheres of factual activity rather than as emanations of an alternative sovereignty. Almost since its inception, native title jurisprudence has turned on the distinction between the existence of ‘native title’ and its recognition by the common law.39 And, because the common law claims to be unable to include indigenous meaning,40 the question of existence is to be answered by looking only at observable regularities of behaviour (i.e. facts rather than law) and what is observable to the common law is further restricted by its evidential practices and procedures. This distinction between aboriginal law as ‘fact’ and aboriginal law as ‘law’ is presented as crucial to understanding the intersection between the two legal systems.41 As the judges observe, the apprehension and enforcement of ‘native title’ is not a case of a conflict of laws. Indigenous norms cannot be equated to the laws of another state’s legal system.42 Autochthony is necessarily exclusive.

Notes 1 Granted the theoretical specification of ‘world society’, this formula is not such an oxymoron. ‘Regional boundaries […] are political conventions, relevant for the segmentary differentiation of the political subsystem of global society. They designate places to show passports and, occasionally, generate reasons for war. It does not make sense to say that they are separate societies’ (Luhmann 2005). 2 The division between indigenous and non-indigenous peoples is arguably more radical and conflictive than any of the tensions that might be held in the multiplicity of an ancient constitution cf. Tully 1995. 3 See, for example, Teubner (2000:406). What is said of contract might apply equally well to each of the legal forms bound up in territory, for a ‘contract does not bind the authentic wills of human beings but the socially constructed interests of contractual partners that exist only as semantic artefacts, as texts, as products of a discourse’. 4 ‘In our context, where we have to decide between assuming a global system of regional societies or a world society, we have now clear and theoretically consistent arguments for a single world society. The autopoietic system of this society can be described without any reference to regional particularities. This certainly does not mean that these differences are of minor importance. But a sociological theory that wants to explain these differences, should not introduce them as givens, that is, as independent variables; it should rather start with the assumption of a world society and then investigate, how and why this society tends to maintain or even increase regional inequalities’, see Luhmann 2005. 5 Cf. the observations of Marshall CJ (referring to the colonization of America) in Worcester v The State of Georgia (1832) 31 U.S. 515: ‘After lying concealed for a series of ages, the enterprise of Europe, guided by nautical science, conducted some of her adventurous sons into this western world. They found it in possession of a people who had made small progress in agriculture or manufactures and whose general employment was war, hunting and fishing. Did these adventurers, by sailing along the coast and occasionally landing on it, acquire for the several governments to whom they belonged or by whom they were commissioned, a rightful property in the soil, from the Atlantic to the Pacific or rightful dominion over the numerous people who occupied it?’ 6 Followed by the Native Title Act of 1993.

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7 Attorney General v Brown (1847) 1 Legge 312 (with reference to New South Wales, where the date of annexation was earlier). ‘The waste lands of this Colony are, and ever have been, from the time of its first settlement in 1788, in the Crown; […] they are, and ever have been, from that date […] in the Sovereign’s possession. The territory of New South Wales, and eventually the whole of the vast island of which it forms a part, have been taken possession of by British subjects in the name of the Sovereign. They belong, therefore, to the British Crown.’ 8 ‘[I]t is not a corollary of the Crown’s acquisition of a radical title to land in an occupied territory that the Crown acquired absolute beneficial ownership of that land to the exclusion of the indigenous inhabitants. If the land were desert and uninhabited, truly a terra nulllius, the Crown would take an absolute beneficial title (an allodial title) to the land [because] there would be no other proprietor. But if the land were occupied by the indigenous inhabitants and their rights and interests in the land are recognized by the common law, the radical title which is acquired with the acquisition of sovereignty cannot itself be taken to confer an absolute beneficial title to the occupied land.’ (Mabo v Queensland, per Brennan J at page 425). 9 Nireaha Tamaki v Baker [1901] A.C. 561 and Amodu Tijani v Secretary, Southern Nigeria [1921] 2 A.C. 399. 10 See the case of the appellant in Amodu Tijani v Secretary, Southern Nigeria, Privy Council Office, Printed Papers in Appeals (1921), volume 20, j 74–82. 11 See Yanner v Eaton [1999] HCA 53, esp. at paras 17–31. 12 ‘The novelty of the eighteenth century concept of the constitution lay in the fact that it provided a legal solution to the problem of political self-reference, while at the same time it provided a political solution to the legal problem of self-reference’ (Luhmann 1995c:114). 13 One might, indeed, ask whether it is productive to ‘describe today’s extremely dynamic society in terms of a semantic that amounts to a mixture of arbitrariness and paralysis’ (Luhmann 1990a:134). 14 In that sense, space is the equivalent of what Foucault would have called a ‘diagram’. That is, an historical a priori. 15 If one reads Hegelian dialectic less as a way of manufacturing unity through contradiction and more as an expression of the predicament of having to be ‘always already ready for anxiety’ then the dialectic is a way of all attempts to stabilize distinctions which are dissolved by the failing moment of universality (see also Rose 1992). 16 Gummow J., in Wik Peoples v Queensland (1996). 17 See Croker island case, in which the High Court held that while its judgement remained rooted in the land, it could nevertheless ‘recognize’ rights in the sea. 18 Mabo, per Brennan J at p 48. 19 Nullagine Investments v Western Australia Club Inc (1993) 67 AJLR 739, at 748. 20 Mabo, at p 50. 21 Ward, High Court para 90. 22 This was the point made by the dissenting judge in Ward. ‘The dispossession of the Aboriginal peoples from their lands was a great wrong. Many people believe that those of us who are the beneficiaries of that wrong have a moral responsibility to redress it to the extent that it can be redressed. But, it is becoming increasingly clear—to me, at all events—that redress cannot be achieved by a system that depends on evaluating the competing legal rights of landholders and native-title holders. The deck is stacked against the native-title holders whose fragile rights must give way to the superior rights of the landholders whenever the two classes of rights conflict. It may be that the time has come to think of abandoning the present system, a system that simply seeks to declare and enforce the legal rights of the parties, irrespective of their merits. A better system may be an arbitral system that declares what the rights of the parties ought to be according to the justice and circumstances of the individual case’. (Western Australia v Ward per McHugh J, at para 561).

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23 ‘The strength of native title is that it is enforceable by the ordinary courts. Its weakness is that it is not an estate held from the Crown nor is it protected by the common law as Crown tenures are protected against impairment by subsequent Crown grant. Native title is liable to be extinguished by laws enacted by, or with the authority of, the legislature or by the act of the executive in exercise of powers conferred upon it’ (Brennan J, in Mabo No 2). 24 The Wik Peoples v The State of Queensland (1997) per Gummow J. 25 Wik, per Kirby J. 26 ‘That process by which old principles and old phrases are charged with new content, is, from the lawyer’s point of view, an evolution of the true intent and meaning of the old law; from the historian’s point of view it is almost, of necessity, a process of perversion and misunderstanding. Thus we are tempted to mix up two different logics, the logic of authority and the logic of evidence’ (Maitland 1911:491). 27 Ironically, this emphasis on the vitality of the common law closed the possibility of cultural discrimination in the same moment as it claimed to unleash it. The Australian common law attributed to itself the ability to remake its own past in the light of Australia’s evolving national and international identity and, in so doing, claimed ‘to embody truth and justice’ in the present (Povinelli 2002:172). But indigenous common law (note the observations of an indigenous spokesperson: ‘[We] follow a practice of common law […] This is one thing that is very important for us, to be able to see the customary law—what it is’ (cited in L. Anderson 2003:121) had to be represented as historically inert if native title claimants were to be recognized as having retained their character as the original proprietors of the land. In other words, the common law exploited the demand for cultural discrimination as an occasion to affirm its own vital and authentic autochthony in contradistinction to the form of autochthony that it attributed to indigenous Australian culture. 28 To speak here of ‘intention’ will seldom assist and may impede the understanding of the effect of the legislation in question, unless it be kept in mind that what is involved is the ‘intention’ manifested by the legislation. As Holmes put it, ‘[w]e do not inquire what the legislature meant; we ask only what the statute means’. Wik, per Gummow J. 29 Western Australian The Commonwealth (Native Title Act Case) (1995) 183 CLR 373, at 422. 30 Wik Peoples v Queensland, per Kirby J. 31 Cited in Wik. 32 Reversed by The Native Title (Amendment) Act 1998. 33 Compare the reasoning of Justices Brennan and Toohey in Wik. 34 Yanner v Eaton (1999) HCA 53, at para 17, citing Gray. ‘It may be […] that the ultimate fact about property is that it does not really exist: it is mere illusion’. 35 In deciding the case of Fejo v Northern Territory, a majority in the High Court adopted the definition of Isaacs J in the old case of Cmwth v NSW. ‘In the language of the English law, the word fee signifies an estate of inheritance as distinguished from a less estate […] A fee simple is the most extensive in quantum, and the most absolute in respect to the rights which it confers, of all estates known to the law. It confers, and since the beginning of legal history it always has conferred, the lawful right to exercise over, upon, and in respect to, the land, every act of ownership which can enter into the imagination’. 36 Wik, per Kirby J. 37 North J. in Ward at para 690. 38 North J. in Ward at para 689.

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39 The distinction between existence and recognition is found throughout case law and is a central presupposition of the native title legislation (see Native Title Act 1993, s 223(1)(c)). In one case, the point is made that ‘the underlying existence of traditional laws and customs is a necessary pre-requisite for native title but their existence is not a sufficient basis for recognizing native title’ (Fejo v Northern Territory (1998). 40 Besides, as Povinelli observes (2002:168), ‘aboriginal beliefs are legally productive not because they are perceived to be ‘true’ but in large part because they are untrue, unbelievable, and thus truly distinctive and different’. 41 Members of the Yorta Yorta Aboriginal Community v Victoria (2002) HCA 58, at paras 75– 77, per Gleeson CJ, Gummow & Hayne JJ. 42 Kirby in Wik.

9 ‘Just peace’ revisited: international law in the era of asymmetry Achilles Skordas Introduction1 Peace does not necessarily signify the absence of conflict. It may well be that a certain perception of what peace or ‘just peace’, or ‘just order’ is, or ought to be, generates or exacerbates conflicts. The ‘restoration of international peace and security’ is, indeed, the legitimate objective of the use of force as authorized by the United Nations (UN) Security Council (Art. 42 of the UN Charter). Peace-keeping, peace enforcement, peace-making, or post-conflict peace-building are concepts relating, in different ways, to conflict and conflict management (Ghali 1992). The present chapter addresses the generic concept of ‘just peace’, but it does not claim to develop any theory of global justice; it is about international law and, in particular, about a paradoxical borderline legal concept. Here the modern systems theory (MST) approach can elucidate some of the ‘blind spots’ of legal formalism. The present chapter argues that ‘just peace’ is the venue through which fundamental elements and structures of world society find access into global law and international law, permitting the coevolution of function systems and law. This does not imply law’s loss of autonomy or its submission to the finalities of other function systems. International law has its own ‘normative agenda’, and ‘just peace’ signifies the selective translation of societal elements from law’s environment into legal categories and facts. The first section describes the ‘just peace’ paradox. Thus, the concept is juxtaposed to law but, being included in the UN Charter, it is also part of the legal system. If ‘just peace’ is international law’s ‘programme of all programmes’, then the interpretation requires a closer hetero-referential and self-referential look at both pillars—world society and global/international law. In the second section, world society as the comprehensive, but asymmetrical, social system, is viewed as an external reference to, and environment of, the legal system (law is then a system-within-systems). The implicit query is how hegemony, as an expression of global asymmetry, might affect (or impair) the ‘just peace’ programme. Section three reassesses the main features of global, international and transnational law, including the terminological distinction between them. It focuses on the question, whether international law is developing the ‘adaptive capacities’ to respond to the challenges of the transition from the international community of states to world society. Section four then finalizes the observation of the ‘re-entry’, by suggesting an interpretive paradigm for ‘just peace’ that could accommodate the overarching systemic interest of dynamic stability (cf. Luhmann 1995a:49–51) and global pluralism.

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In search of ‘just peace’ In its preamble, the UN Charter states that the peoples of the United Nations are determined ‘to establish conditions under which justice and respect for the obligations arising from treaties and other sources of international law can be maintained and to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom’ (para. 3). Moreover, the primary purpose of the United Nations is ‘to maintain international peace and security and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace and for the suppression of acts of aggression or other breaches of the peace and to bring about by peaceful means and in conformity with the principles of justice and international law, adjustment or settlement of international disputes or situations which might lead to a breach of the peace’ (Art. 1, para. 1). The notion of ‘just peace’ needs to be interpreted in the light of its two structural elements, peace and justice. Peace does not only indicate the absence of war or the jus ad bellum and jus in bello as sets of norms. The legal notion of ‘peace’ has two dimensions—negative and positive peace. ‘Negative peace’ means the absence of armed hostilities, while ‘positive peace’ describes the multiple dimensions of an international political, economic and human rights order (Art. 55 UN Charter). ‘Peace’ refers, therefore, to the totality of the global order and includes issues such as the prevention of war, respect for the economic development of states, protection and promotion of human rights, decolonization, selfdetermination, enhancement of quality of life, satisfaction of human needs as well as ‘peaceful change’ (see, for instance, Randelzhofer 1979; Wolfrum 2002; Kimminich and Zöckler 2002). ‘Positive peace’ indicates neither a fixed and stable endpoint of evolution nor a permanent equilibrium in world society nor the normative coordinates of a specific system of global governance. It merely describes the process of evolution and change of the political, social and economic systems of world society. Taken as a common legal concept, peace is devoid of any autonomous normative content, unless some actor has the legal authority to fill in the blank and attribute a specific prescriptive meaning to it (e.g. the UN Security Council under Chapter VII). The addition of the element of ‘justice’ might transform the notion into something more fundamental. If ‘justice’ is a legal term, how is it possible to distinguish it from international law proper? Moreover, ‘just peace’ might imply also the existence of ‘unjust peace’. Then the question is, whether ‘unjust peace’ can be legal, that is, in conformity with international law or, even, whether ‘just peace’ can or needs to be established in deviation from international law. One possibility is to interpret the ‘just/unjust’ distinction as an ‘ethical or moral supercode’, as a ‘third value’ or as a natural law ‘superstructure’ conditioning the code ‘legal/illegal’. However, this interpretation does not take into consideration the complex character of world society and the need for international law to deal with very heterogeneous situations that might threaten or destabilize peace and security. Thomas Franck, for instance, flatly rejected the suitability of the moral concept of justice for the assessment of legitimacy of international legal norms. He considered that in a multicultural and complex global secular system it is necessary to de-emphasize the importance of a shared system of moral values (Franck 1990:235–36). Franck later developed ‘fairness’ as a fundamental principle of international law.

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What the deep contextuality of all notions of fairness does tell us is that fairness is relative and subjective […]. It is […] a human, subjective, contingent quality which merely captures in one word a process of discourse, reasoning and negotiation leading—if successful—to an agreed formula that locates itself at a conceptual intersection between various possible formulae for allocation. (Franck 1993:32) He then connected fairness with the equality/inequality distinction and adopted John Rawls’ ‘maximin’ principle of fairness. This principle gives a moral preference for equality, but, at the same time, accepts inequality if it contributes to the long-term expectations of the least favoured group in society (ibid.: 36–40). Franck’s understanding of fairness is close to the systems theoretical concept of justice. From a systems theoretical perspective, justice is ‘self-reference in the form of observation, but not in the form of an operation; not on the level of the code, but on the level of programs’ (Luhmann 2004:214). Niklas Luhmann defines coding (legal/illegal distinction) and programming as follows. Since the values legal and illegal are not in themselves criteria for the decision between legal and illegal, there must be further points of view that indicate whether or not and how the values of the code are to be allocated rightly or wrongly. We shall call these additional semantic elements (in law and other coded systems) programs. (ibid.: 192, italics in the original) Justice is a ‘contingency formula’ on the level of programmes signalling the complexity of the societal environment as seen from the internal perspective of law and is linked to the principle of equality that stipulates that equal cases should be treated equally and unequal cases unequally. This means that judicial decision-making and legal interpretation should exhibit an adequate complexity and consistency (ibid.: 211–29; Neves 2002; cf. also Teubner 2001b). These considerations are even more apposite with respect to international law and peace, due to the complexity of the factors that should be considered in the structuring of a ‘just’ global economic and political order. The legal principle of the sovereign equality of states (Art. 2 para. 1 of the UN Charter) cannot conceal the deep power inequalities among states, which are mirrored in the structure of international legal order (Krisch 2005). The question of justice should, thus, be further specified. Justice in international law should be defined as ‘complex equality’ recognizing the plurality of social discourses and the autonomy of communicative function systems in world society (Neves 2002:336). If ‘peace’ is a descriptive catch-all concept for global order and justice is the contingency formula as outlined above, then ‘just peace’ is the ‘programme of all programmes’ of international law. ‘Just peace’ does not indicate any essentialist set of values that condition the operation of international law. It conditions the conditioning of further normative programmes and introduces a process of interpreting and implementing

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international law in a horizon of complex equality. ‘Just peace’ constitutes the ‘orientation standard’ for the interpretation of international law. In the concluding sentence of the Perpetual Peace, Immanuel Kant made a somewhat similar allusion to the idea of just peace as a dynamic and never-ending process closely linked to law. If it is a duty to make the state of public right (Zustand eines öffentlichen Rechts) actual, though only through an unending process of approximation to it, and if at the same time there is a well founded hope that we can do it, then perpetual peace, which will follow the hitherto falsely so-called treaties of peace (but which are only suspension of war), is no empty idea, but a task that, gradually completed, steadily approaches its goal (since the times during which equal progress occurs will, we hope, become even shorter). (Kant 1983:139; on this excerpt see Fischer-Lescano 2002a:239) For Kant, peace is, therefore, an ‘unending process of approximation’. Though it ‘steadily approaches its goal’, it is not a concluding point in history. The ‘just peace’ paradox cannot be eliminated as Hans Kelsen had proposed in an essay he wrote during World War II by establishing ‘peace through law’ (Kelsen 1942:28–29). Rather, the opposite approach offers a possibility for its management—; thus, ‘law through peace’, i.e. a formation and further development of international law through observation of the other societal function systems. The fundamental question that needs to be addressed in this chapter then is, how ‘just peace’ is relevant for the determination of the boundaries and function of international law. The question here is whether ‘just peace’, as a legally relevant category, makes sense, in view of the deep asymmetries and inequalities of world society and of the exercise of hegemonic power.

Innate asymmetries World society and the assumption of injustice The concept of world society has been formulated from different angles by different systems theorists. It was originally introduced into MST by Luhmann in the early 1970s (Luhmann 1971) and was further developed, inter alia, with respect to global law (Luhmann 1983:333–43), morality and ethics in international relations (Luhmann 1999), globalization (Luhmann 1997c), and world society at large (Luhmann 1997a). Luhmann’s conceptual framework constitutes the starting point, not only for sociological debates, but also for a critical review of international law through reflexive international legal theory. The innate asymmetry of world society intuitively indicates the existence of an unjust order. For Luhmann, there is only one all-encompassing society today, namely world society. Accordingly, he defines world society as the comprehensive social system, which is inclusive of any possible communication. Moreover, world society is based not on the actualization, but, rather, on the potential connectivity and accessibility of all

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communication (see also Stetter in the introduction of this volume). Luhmann stresses that, although casual contacts between distant places existed also in pre-modern societies, the overall communicative effect remained limited. It was then the full discovery of the globe in the fifteenth and sixteenth century that has triggered functional differentiation and the emergence of function systems, including economy, science, politics, education, health and law. Since then, synchronized realtime communication has been potentially possible worldwide. Moreover, through the emergence of function systems, the hierarchical organizational principle of society has been replaced in the course of societal evolution by a heterarchical and a-centric world society. In that context, it must be stressed that functional differentiation does not produce an equalizing effect but, instead, tends to strengthen discrepancies and inequalities. Regional heterogeneity and differences, even exclusion, are generated by the functional differentiation itself and can be weakened or strengthened by the response of the regional political system and law (see also contributions by Stetter in this volume). However, these inequalities neither lead to the emergence of regional societies, nor to a world that could be described primarily in terms of simple centre-periphery models. Accordingly, Luhmann’s analysis affirms that although in a regional comparison differences increase over time, in a historical perspective the evolutionary societal trends tend not to diverge, but to develop in the same structural direction (ibid.: 145–71). In a similar way, yet with different nuances, Rudolf Stichweh describes world society in a constructivist and historical perspective. He argues that all traditional societies have in a sense been world societies, in so far as they define themselves through the distinction ‘innate/alien’ or ‘system/environment’, thereby constituting their own ‘worlds’. ‘World’, in that understanding, is the projection of a horizon that includes everything which is excluded through the system/environment distinction. In other words, ‘world’ is the horizon of every experience and action that cannot be fully comprehended, described or enumerated (Rossbach 2004). It is for that reason, that ‘societies’ which consider themselves as parts of a greater ‘whole’, can, nevertheless, not be described adequately as separate ‘societies’, but only subsystems of that larger society. The particular feature of world society of our epoch is that it features as the single society, because no other societies or world societies—that is, societies with their own distinct horizon of possibilities—exist any more (Stichweh 2000b:232–44). From a historical perspective, the genesis of the single world society dates back to the Spanish conquista—colonization of the American continent—and the discovery of the main maritime travel routes around the globe (Luhmann 1997a:148; Stichweh 2000b:249–50). The Soviet Union constituted the last major historical effort to establish a separate societal ‘empire’, yet the socialist system broke down because of its failure to establish an alternative hierarchical society and effectively isolate itself from, or win the fight against world society (Luhmann 1997a:809–10; Schwinn 2001:20–21). Stichweh identifies three major innovations and three processes which result from the dynamics of world society. Briefly, these three innovations are functional differentiation, the emergence of organizations and the invention of new techniques of communication. The three processes are the global diffusion of institutional models and patterns, global inter-connectedness and the decentralization of function systems. As far as the process of decentralization is concerned, it is argued that at the starting point of the evolution of world society, major differences in the original endowment of resources have led to the

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centre-periphery differentiation, but that the further evolution of world society already points to the erosion and decline of this distinction (Stichweh 2000b:261–62). If, indeed, the evolution of function systems did not relate to these ‘starting conditions’ in the genesis of world society, it would be difficult to explain the mounting inequalities in regional contexts and the dominant position of the Euro-Atlantic socio-political space in the contemporary world. In contrast to these approaches, Helmut Willke questions the existence of a single world society. Thus, Willke defines ‘society’ as a viable political-economic unit embedded in culture that has the capacities of self-steering, self-maintenance, selforganization and self-reproduction. These capacities become viable if they are attached in the socio-cultural context of self-determination. On the basis of these features, Willke then argues that, within the contemporary global context, the identity of ‘society’ is absent. Instead, he proposes a differentiated model between world society and national societies which he defines as a ‘model of lateral world systems’. Lateral world systems are forms of organized social systems that lie between the functionally differentiated modern society—with its strong territorial dimension—and the postmodern, fullydeveloped world society. In this view, lateral world systems, including the finance system, the systems of mass communications, sports, popular culture and law, coalesce at a global level and unhinge from their territorially defined ‘mother societies’. As a result, national societies are today deeply shaken. Willke argues that while lateral world systems progressively develop their own self-steering mechanisms, re-stabilization of national societies through global steering has not yet become visible, since no institutional capacity for world societal steering has yet emerged, not even on a rudimentary basis (Willke 2001a:72–74). While exhibiting important differences in how they describe world society, the focus by Luhmann, Stichweh and Willke on the structures and functions of contemporary society form together an important basis for socio-legal analysis. Thus, they all agree, in one way or another, that there exist deep structural imbalances in contemporary society. In systems theory, these global asymmetries have been described through three distinctions, namely inclusion/exclusion, centre/periphery, and globalization/regionalization. The inclusion/exclusion distinction of MST replaces the traditional social integration theme in sociology (Luhmann 1997a:619). In a functionally differentiated world society, exclusion emerges as a by-product of the regular operations of the various functional systems, while the exclusion from one system often leads to a ‘chain reaction’ of exclusions from other systems, too. There are thus manifold spaces in world society, in particular in the developing world, in which exclusion tends to assume the dimension of a grave and permanent structural problem. This problem threatens to disrupt regular systems’ operations, but puts in perspective the possibility of a dominant ‘inclusion/exclusion’ meta-code on the level of world society. Thus, Luhmann argues that a new secondary function system is emerging, which deals with the consequences of exclusion, either in the form of social or development assistance (ibid.: 630–34, 2004:479–90; see also Stichweh 2000b:85–102). Mathias Albert sheds a somewhat different light on the exclusion issue. He argues that MST runs into difficulties when it relates the concept of world society to the inclusion/exclusion distinction. Thus, how could spaces of exclusion be logically

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considered as parts of world society, if they are factually sealed off from worldwide communication (Albert 2002a:333)? Moreover, Albert points out that exclusion is not necessarily the consequence of some kind of ‘exploitation’ generated by function systems, but rather a more radical and complex phenomenon of uneven evolution in world society. The centre/periphery differentiation is actualized in various societal forms, for instance, as the distinction between city centres and rural peripheries (Luhmann 1997a:663). Centre/periphery imbalances, as well as stratificatory differences in the form of social classes, still exist in the era of functional differentiation, albeit arguably as byproducts of the function systems’ operations (ibid.: 612). Thus, Stichweh argues that the significance of a clear-cut centre/periphery distinction tends to erode and to be absorbed into a more complex regional differentiation scheme (Stichweh 2000b:119–24). Stetter observes that ‘specific regional forms of structural coupling of social systems as well as reinforcing patterns of exclusion account for regional conflict patterns within the context of world society’ (see Stetter in this volume). On this basis, it can be argued that the globalization/regionalization distinction overlaps the two aforementioned distinctions and leads to a more general feature of global systemic asymmetry. However, regionalization does not indicate the emergence or domination of a new differentiation principle distinct from functional differentiation. It should, rather, be assumed that the functional differentiation, as the dominant principle of world society, anticipates the structures which preset the terms of regional conditioning. In other words, it is a complex and labile conditioning of conditioning, of inhibitions and disinhibitions and a combination of limitations and opportunities, that depend on innumerable other conditions. Functional differentiation should not be seen as the prerequisite for the possibility of systems operations but, rather, as the possibility of their conditioning. Thus, the systems’ dynamics that lead to an extremely unequal development within world society become visible. (Luhmann 1997a:811) Following this argument, regions relate in an unequal manner to the advantages and disadvantages of functional differentiation. The eventual domination of disadvantages in some parts of the world can, then, be best explained by the reciprocal obstruction of politics and economics in specific regional contexts. Rather than observing local realities from a comparative territorial perspective, they should be subject to a functional perspective (ibid.: 163). On this basis, Albert attributes to regionalization chances and opportunities of constitutionalization, steering and global governance on a world societal scale (Albert 2002a:350–52). Nevertheless, the concept of ‘region’ as ‘complexity reduction in world society’ presupposes that some form of structural coupling between function systems is successfully established on a regional level (ibid.: 350). So, the question is how these different regions in world society relate to each other. The following paragraphs will, accordingly, argue that the notion of ‘hegemony’ is a useful concept in accounting for differences—and conflicts—in world society across different functional levels.

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Hegemony as form Hegemony constitutes the conceptualization and form of world society’s asymmetry and is appropriate for elucidating the quest for ‘just peace’. The concept of hegemony has witnessed a revival in the literature on international law (see, for instance, Kahn 2000; Byers and Nolte 2003; Alvarez 2003; Krisch 2005; Koskenniemi 2004). Although largely viewed through a state-centred perspective, in particular through the predominance of the United States in international affairs, the legal literature has made some limited openings towards a functional approach on hegemony. However, this discussion cannot be addressed further here. In a parallel movement, sociology also looks for a way out of the inter-state mindset. In this context, Urs Stäheli and Mathias Albert have developed different aspects of a systems theoretical approach to hegemony. Stäheli approaches hegemony by addressing the meaning of ‘the political’ in world society. He argues that the political is not limited to the sphere of the political system, but is inherent in the overall sphere of all social processes. The political, in this broad understanding, is then bound to an antagonistic disposition, which results from the impossibility of a perfect order and the fact that undecidability nevertheless needs to be dissolved. Thus, the hegemonic act must transcend the rationality of a system in the moment of the latter’s dislocation. For instance, the identity of a system is not derived from within the system itself, but is established by an external hegemonic decision, which, as such, cannot be legitimized from within the system itself. Moreover, a hegemonic project may consist of the antagonistic articulation of the system, that is, either through re-articulation of a system’s code from a technical dimension (e.g. legal/illegal) into an antagonistic one (friend/foe) or through the disturbance of the distinction system/environment. In the latter case, the system loses its indifference towards the environment and articulates the danger of de-differentiation as arising from its environment in the form of a potential domination by another system (Stäheli 2000:230–318). In contrast, Albert uses the unipolarity/multipolarity distinction with respect to the evolutionary stage and internal dynamics of various function systems. He argues that the present global order is rather unipolar, when observed through the lenses of the world economic system, but appears increasingly multipolar from the perspective of global law and global governance (Albert 2001). He then reformulates the problem of hegemony as follows. If an order of regional concentration would hide behind regionalization processes, and if this order would be antagonistic to the process of globalization, then the resulting structure of the global system could indeed be understood on the basis of notions of hegemony and polarity. Rightly, Albert emphasizes that the important point here is not that regionalization processes are taking place, but that it can be shown that these processes operate against the dynamics of globalization. And, only in that case, would the concept of hegemony be a scientific tool for world society’s self-observation. Albert’s approach has the particular advantage that it releases the concept of global hegemony from its strong national power focus. However, Albert seems to expect that the hegemony/polarity distinction is of use only in the context of a regionally polarized world society, somewhat corresponding to the traditional ‘East/West’ or ‘North/South’ distinctions (see Albert 2004c:27). In contrast, this chapter argues that hegemony should

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be re-conceptualized in a broader functional sense, namely as the form of world society’s innate asymmetry. And, it is this asymmetry which generates the process Albert has so penetratively described as Verweltgesellschaftung, i.e. a process of ‘world societybuilding’ (Albert 2002a:330–52). To sum up, the present study identifies a process of Verweltgesellschaftung (world society-building), in which the legal and the political system develop in the course of an internal world society evolution (Luhmann) into lateral world systems (Willke), for which global communicative references are constitutive. (ibid.: 338) It might, however, be argued that world society-building is obviously not limited to the differentiation of the global legal and political systems, but extends to the further evolution and transformation of various other function systems and lateral world systems, too. Thus, hegemony defines the space in which different function systems operate in a variety of workable structural couplings between them. These may not be the most effective couplings, but the order they constitute respects autopoietic reproduction and stabilizes each system’s operative closure (see also Teubner 1999). Hegemony’s order is unipolar in its external reference, in the sense that it has not yet faced any competing space or entity, regionally consolidated or in emergence. However, it meets either unstable or chaotic circumstances at its fringes, and is challenged by political and intellectual dissent that has not yet reached a minimum of coherence in its principles or goals. Though there is no consolidated ‘regional-structural opponent’ to hegemony, there exist situations that might endanger the continuation of the systems’ operations, or lead to recurrent economic and social crises capable of leading to the breakdown of order and authority on a global scale, since parts of world population openly defy the economic and political decisions that are taken at the centre of world society. International law constitutes one of the fields of that struggle (Santos and Rodriguez-Gavarito 2005; Rajagopal 2003). In its internal reference, hegemony is multipolar in that its essence consists of the regular operation of function systems. Nonetheless, unipolarity appears here, too, as the ‘cumulative moment’ of the regular operation of all function systems within a specific space. Despite this, there exists no centralized political authority and no overarching political steering of the hegemonic space as ‘neo-imperialist’ approaches would hold. There is, nonetheless, another kind of connective dimension to this. Thus, the fact that function systems have an inherent dynamic of expanding their operations throughout the globe, which is at the same time still segmented into states and territories, systems operations often meet strong structural resistance, in particular when regional religious, political and legal systems claim a dominant position. The ensuing contradictions—and occasionally conflicts—may sometimes appear as state-led plans or coordinated efforts of hegemonic policy or resistance, while it is in fact ‘world society-building’ in the form of the proliferation of patterns and structures of function systems and lateral world systems. As has become clear by now, this process is not necessarily linear, circular or peaceful, but—as unplanned and unpredictable as it is—

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can also be violent by bringing territories into the maelstrom of modernization thereby often generating major destabilizing effects. Thus, if the tightness of structural couplings among systems reaches the level of regional dynamics of societal de-differentiation under the hierarchical supremacy and ‘uniform semantics’ of the religious or the political system, such as under the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, the Iraqi Baathists, or the North Korean Communists, then extremely strong collisions and turbulence can be expected on a global scale. Powerful states continue to exist in the era of world society and, under certain circumstances, they act unilaterally. The consequences on the broader systemic architecture of the hegemonic space and world society at large cannot be predicted, planned and agreed upon, for the simple reason that at least some of these acts constitute mere perturbations for the function systems. Military force, for instance, may destroy the existing social architecture, but there is no automatism towards a swift ‘systemic normalization’. Instead, the territory may end up on the side of the exclusion. Incorporation, annexation or direct administration of foreign territories over the long term as they existed in the era of imperialism cannot be revived in the functionally differentiated world society, and if such a revival is aimed at, it can only end in political, economic or even military disasters. At the same time, armed conflict can cause deep disequilibrium and destabilization of the overall world societal system. This is why, since the end of the Cold War, unilateral or multilateral interventions initiated by states of the hegemonic space have always been oriented towards the establishment of workable democratic rule of law structures in the territories in question, as a condition for the restoration of peace and for the resumption of regular societal activities. Beyond the boundaries of meaning that mark the distinction between each function system and its environment, hegemony, therefore, also has a regional/territorial dimension, which is not necessarily identical for all systems. Thus, Stichweh speaks of society being coupled with specific space differences and space coordinates (Stichweh 2000b:193). Space is to be defined not on an ex ante basis, as if world society could be divided along some concrete line, but on the basis of the functional activity and specific issue under consideration. Thus, spatial dimensions are fluid by definition but, nevertheless, real. The emergence of the hegemonic space may be associated with the starting conditions of functional differentiation and, if this is true, the erosion of the centres could indeed be a longer historical process than MST often postulates (see Stichweh 2000b:262). Thus, hegemonic structures are present in the evolution of world society and lateral world systems. For instance, credit-rating agencies assess the credit-worthiness of firms, institutions or states. In that sense, they constitute a fundamental self-steering mechanism of the a-topic world financial system. Despite de-territorialization, there still exists a spatial dimension related to the location of the ‘intelligence centers’ of function systems. For instance, credit-rating agencies and investment banking as pillars of the world financial system are strongly concentrated and oligopolized by US firms, while the expert systems for rating orient themselves on US standards. In another example of a strongly oligopolistic market in another social system, the four main news agencies are all based in the Euro-Atlantic area (Willke 2001a; Kerwer 2001).

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The world educational and scientific systems offer other examples of the dominant presence of the university and research systems of the hegemonic space in world society at large. Due to the nature and history of the relevant systems, globalization passes through an intermediate stage of progressive disentanglement from national constraints and territorial bases of origin. However, the systems of higher education still have an inherently strong territorial linkage, which explains the regularity of student migrations towards the cardinal institutions of this function system (Stichweh 2000b: 103–45). Yet, the regional imbalances as a whole should not be considered as a fatally permanent historical attribute of society. Systems operations tend to create new instabilities and counter-movements, and establish new focal points and centres, as discussions on ‘outsourcing’ towards the global ‘periphery’ demonstrate. This systemic volatility and lack of predetermined order then becomes visible, if hegemony is viewed through the media of influence and knowledge. Thus, in their various forms of couplings, systems operations are being communicated on a global scale and are spreading in regions and territories through the communication medium of ‘influence’. Luhmann identifies three different forms of ‘influence’, namely uncertainty absorption, positive sanctions and negative sanctions. He builds on March and Simon by arguing that ‘uncertainty absorption takes place when inferences are drawn from a body of evidence and the inferences, instead of the evidence itself, are being communicated’ (Luhmann 2000a:42; see also March and Simon 1993). In the traditional meaning of authority, this happens under the assumption that the communication represents the reasons of the utterance (Luhmann 2000a:42). In this sense, uncertainty absorption and authority are closely related concepts. Consequently, Luhmann stresses the cognitive operation of this form of influence in a way that demonstrates its practical affinity to hegemonic influence. This (form of influence) is not based upon the fact that something is specifically claimed. It is being exercised already through the choice of the definition of a situation, through crossover from badly defined to better defined problems, through the choice of a classification scheme, and, therefore, largely through the practice of the language. It does not restrict, at least explicitly, the freedom of the addressee of the communication. It is based, rather, on the assumption that the overall levels of freedom of the system are high and, with all analyses, all decisions, all rationalizations they can grow even more, so that influence is in principle welcome, in order to reduce the informational burden to a manageable scale. One can formulate: uncertainty absorption is a way of generating facts. (ibid.: 43–44) ‘Positive sanctions’ constitute the second form of the medium ‘influence’ and they are actualized through an ‘exchange’, in which it is expected that the influential institution shall reward the addressee for entering into a desired interaction. Thus, influence arouses expectations and hopes. Monetary payments are the typical case of positive sanctions in modern society. Among function systems, it is the economy that exercises influence through positive sanctions. The specific feature of this form of influence is that positive

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sanctions need to actually follow and the payments must in fact take place (ibid.: 44–45). In international economic relations, the significance of bilateral or multilateral aid or the recognition of privileges for certain beneficiaries is a well known vehicle not only for promoting the donors’ interests stricto sensu, but also, for diffusing their own systemic structures and replicating their legal, social or economic policies in other states and territories. Finally, as the third form of influence, ‘negative sanctions’ are related to ‘power’ as the specific medium of the political system. Power is communicated as a threat or is anticipated as such a threat by the addressees. ‘Negative sanctions’ do not need to be implemented. In fact, the implementation of the threat restricts the effectiveness of the medium. Power relies on the non-implementation of negative sanctions (Luhmann 2000a: 46; see also the critique in Guzzini 2004). Luhmann’s triadic definition of the medium ‘influence’ facilitates the conceptualization of hegemony, in particular if it is related to Willke’s notion of ‘knowledge society’, in which knowledge becomes a fundamental steering medium. Willke distinguishes between the traditional scientific system, in which universities constitute the fundamental form of organization, and the ‘collective intelligence’ of knowledge society. ‘Systemic knowledge’ develops within the various function systems and lateral world systems and is not the exclusive subject of a separate system. He identifies ‘epistemic communities’ and ‘communities of practice’ as examples of institutions that develop and maintain the ‘collective memory’ of the systems (Willke 2001b). The hegemonic space in a functional sense is therefore characterized by influence that mediates and disseminates the various forms of ‘collective systemic knowledge’. However, it should be made clear that every function system pursues its own direction, because hegemonic space does not have the capacity to harmonize the diverging perspectives of different functional spheres. There is no single ‘hegemonic proposal’ but, eventually, strongly diverging communications of hegemony. If the question of hegemony is rephrased in Stäheli’s terms (Stäheli 2000), then world society-building is expressed as a fundamental antagonism at the level of structural couplings among systems. Since the stability of a system’s code depends on its capacity to ensure the continuation of the system’s operations, ‘regional blockings’ inhibiting the capacity of the code to maintain the system’s function lead to sequences of systemic dislocation, appearing as instances of ‘corruption’ or ‘non-governability’. Such ‘blockings’ are then dissolved through hegemonic influence, sanctions and systemic knowledge. The dissemination of hegemonic influence and structures is thus not a technical or academic task, but a highly politicized and deeply antagonistic process, as the rise of fundamentalism demonstrates. Fundamentalism is a structural implication of hegemony and functional differentiation and not a relic of tradition in a postmodern world. Fundamentalism is generated within a functionally differentiated society, and not as an external opposition to it, and is based on the communication through ‘unity semantics’ in the context of polycontextural meaning horizons within the functionally differentiated world society. The fundamentalist strategy is then based on the generation of ‘world incidents’ that expose the vulnerabilities of hegemony and world society as a whole (Japp 2003a).

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Functional differentiation and hegemonic influence do not represent a guarantee for better life or for a more rational organization of world society. Luhmann was always pessimistic about that and, instead of a sustainable co-evolution of social systems, he observed a ‘co-evolution of unsustainability’ in the formulation of R.Norgaard (see Luhmann 1997a: 568–69). The expansion of the distinct logics of different function systems may unleash self-destructive forces that undermine the integrity of the systems and their autonomy (Beat Graber and Teubner 1998). The environmental risks and the failure of function systems to contain these risks, demonstrate the ambivalent trajectory of societal evolution (Luhmann 1986b). As Stäheli points out, antagonism among systems can lead to the de-differentiation of systems and to the domination of one code over the other (Stäheli 2000:300–301; Fischer-Lescano and Christensen 2005). The characteristic of hegemony is, nonetheless, that it generates problems, shortcomings and dysfunctionalities and then creates mechanisms for the management—effective or noneffective—of these problems. The contribution of international law is in this regard significant and the proliferation of legal standards can be considered as a cardinal feature of hegemonic influence. Hegemony which communicates through both ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ power cannot be reduced to a specific number of states and does not pursue any kind of harmonized strategy because it is unable to do so. The hegemonic space tends to expand unevenly, depending on the relevant system, through ‘world society-building’ and global integration. It weakens itself since its expansion undermines its own ‘unipolar moment’ in favor of the systems’ multipolarity, in the sense that the ‘intelligence centres’ of function systems are redistributed, in the course of time, to various—and always provisional—world society locations. The economic centres of South and Southeast Asia, such as Bangalore, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Djakarta, Hong-Kong, Guangzhou or Shanghai still need to establish themselves as strong senders of ‘systemic intelligence’, but are indisputably no longer mere recipients of impulses. Therefore, world society’s a-topic version of the ‘end of history’ only constitutes a methodological topos, because, in real life, any form of ‘atopia’ will have to coexist, in one way or another, with territorial spheres of jurisdiction, as well as with regional forms of governance. Hegemony as a functional category is observed, therefore, as a secondary centre/periphery distinction within the globalization/regionalization scheme of a functionally differentiated world society. The distinction between hegemonic and peripheral modernity indicates the progressive transition from the space of regular function systems’ operations to the space of regional blockings and inherent instability. As long as the systemic intelligence centres coincide with cities, areas or territories of the major politico-military powers, then hegemony as concentrated societal power will still exist. However, due to its tendency to expand, hegemony could be expected to fade away in the course of time through diffusion of influence and power. Systemic centres would be relocated across the globe and be increasingly disentangled from ‘power politics’. Systems-relevant ‘variable geometry’ could lead to a more balanced asymmetry in the evolution of various function systems, at least for a long period of transition. It seems, for instance, that the Euro-Atlantic area and a number of liberal democracies around the

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world would constitute, for the time being, the centre of the differentiated global legal system, rule of law and legal innovation. This could be expected to happen, despite the swift rise of Asia in terms of global economic indicators or even despite the relative decline of Europe’s overall political power. Function systems themselves (not just world society as a whole) are also characterized by the centre/periphery differentiation (organized centre/ spontaneous periphery, Teubner 2004:86; Fischer-Lescano and Teubner 2006:48–52). This differentiation may assume also a spatial relevance, depending on the degree of concentration of each system’s organized centres in specific locations and territories. Separate systems may develop multiple spatial coordinates in different regions of the world, bringing the transitional era of hegemony to an end. Hegemony should not be equated with military supremacy and political domination. The evolutionary path of the hegemonic space bears the intrinsic ambivalences and conflict potential of world societal pluralism. It is for international law to make further observations, distinctions and selections of standards and patterns following its own normative programme.

International law and the transnational moment With the accelerating speed of societal evolution (Luhmann 1997a:413–594), international law is under constant pressure by the increasing significance of hegemonic influence, of non-state actors and transboundary activities, as well as by the conflict of rationalities among different legal regimes (Fischer-Lescano and Teubner 2004, 2006). The ‘transnational moment’ represents the ‘destructive and constructive thrust’ of globalization on the evolution of international law (Zumbansen forthcoming) and global law signifies the boundaries of the comprehensive social system. The function and performance of international law, as well as the system’s reflexive capacity, are the decisive factors finalizing the shape of ‘just peace’ as a sui generis legal concept. Global law and international law Law has developed into an autopoietic and operatively closed function system (Luhmann 2004:76–141; Teubner 1989), but it is far more challenging to think of it as the law of world society. Luhmann has stressed the limits of normativity in the new world societal context (Luhmann 1991a, 1983:333–43). Philip Allott recognized the emergence of a universal legal system which is based on six pillars, namely, international constitutional law, international public law, international administrative law, international economic law, international transnational law and international criminal law (Allott 2001:16–17), but without recourse to autopoiesis. Willke is not always clear as to whether he considers global law to be a function system or an emerging lateral world system (Willke 2001a:27, 2003:140). More accurately, Albert distinguished differentiation among function systems from internal differentiation within individual function systems (Albert 2002a:45–48). He concluded that in the course of Verweltgesellschaftung (world society-building), the political and the legal systems of world society are progressively evolving into ‘lateral

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world systems’ as a consequence of the decreasing significance of territoriality. At the same time, the prominence of primary internal differentiation of the global political system into states is retreating behind the more comprehensive issues of the conceptualization of governance and steering through global society processes (ibid.: 341–52). Furthermore, he classified the law of world society into the sectoral categories of national legal systems, international law, international soft law and transnational law (lex mercatoria) (ibid.: 232). Without regard to the degree of deterritorialization, all law, that is, all communication under the code ‘legal/illegal’, is global law and is internally differentiated in various subsystems and regimes, including domestic law, international law and transnational law. The lex mercatoria is a good example of an autonomous transnational legal order, which, in Teubner’s terms, was developed in tight, almost ‘corrupt’, structural proximity to the economic function system and affirmed its autonomy from territoriality, despite its links to international law proper (Teubner 1997b; Stein 1995). International law, as internal differentiation of global law, is evolving, not only in structural coupling with the global political system, but also with other function systems, such as the economy and the mass media (Skordas 2003). The future development of international law is not ‘controlled’ by states, but not because the structural couplings with world politics have ‘weakened’, but rather because the community of states is narrower than the community of relevant actors and activities that contribute to the system’s practice and evolution. Function, performance, reflection MST distinguishes between function, performance and reflection of societal function systems. Function is the observation of the comprehensive societal system, thus, of world society, performance is the observation of other function systems and reflection is the self-observation of the observing system (Luhmann 1997a:757–60). The function of the legal system, in introducing the fundamental distinction between normative and cognitive expectations, is explained as follows. The function of the legal system may be defined as producing and maintaining counter-factual expectations in spite of disappointments. The communication of this intention to maintain one’s own expectations even if they are not fulfilled (that is, to refuse to learn from facts) uses the symbols of normativity, for example, the word ‘should’ […] Legal reasoning uses the distinction between norms and facts, between normative and cognitive expectations. (Luhmann 1992:1426–27, see also Luhmann 1988/1989:140) Despite its normative closure, the legal system is cognitively open, in the sense that it does not draw norms from its environment, but just ‘knowledge’. Communications of other functional systems, including the political system, constitute information, which is processed according to the legal system’s own code and methodology and following the distinction system/environment (Luhmann 2004:105–20). If, however, the system comes

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under significant pressure by other systems, it may risk ‘corruption’ and loss of its specific identity (ibid.: 109–11). This is a major issue with respect to the boundaries and structural couplings of international law. For Luhmann, ‘conduct steering’, including dispute resolution, is not a second function of the legal system (ibid.: 151) but, rather, one of its performances for the other function systems. Although the term clearly indicates a relationship to the steering of human conduct (see Krause 2001:227–28), steering has a broader significance beyond that, depending on the distinction between domestic and world society. Within the conceptual horizon of domestic society, there exists an analytical and conceptual gap between function and performance, in the sense that maintenance of normative expectations cannot be automatically transposed into an effective steering of the conduct of the systems-addressees of norms. Luhmann has been very sceptical with respect to the possibility of direct interventionist societal steering under the conditions of the contemporary functionally differentiated society and has, therefore, focused on evolution rather than on steering (cf. Luhmann 1983:298–325; 1997a:413). Willke is more inclined to accept the capabilities of societal ‘context’ and self-steering and has developed a complex analytical framework on the relevant capacities of systems (Willke 200 1b). Gunther Teubner sees only very limited possibilities of societal context steering through what he calls ‘reflexive law’, in particular, through ‘systems-interference’, i.e. through the eventual direct environmental contact of the legal system with other functional systems within world society as a comprehensive societal system (cf. Teubner 1989:81–122; 1983). The question of the steering capacities of the legal system appears in various other forms, including the so-called ‘legal consequentialism’, referring to the consequences of judicial decisions in the real world (see, for instance, Teubner 1995). With respect to international law and global law, we may identify at least two dimensions of steering. The first refers to the steering of global political and economic processes through the involvement of subjects of international relations including states, international organizations, revolutionary movements, secessionist entities, de facto regimes or multinational corporations. Steering and compliance are assuming the quality of almost existential questions for international law, if one considers the discourse on the boundaries, content and effectiveness of the rule of prohibition of the use of force, the effectiveness of the UN Security Council action and the future of nation-building. Secondly, steering refers to the capacity of the legal system to indirectly steer or plan the structures of world society and have an intentional impact on the evolution of the other function systems through regime-building. In a more moderate version, Willke speaks of ‘meta-e volution’, that is, a combination of evolutionary and self-steering mechanisms for complex systems (Willke 2003:66–67), under the assumption that ‘steering is the reflexive form of evolution’ (Willke 2001a:171). With respect to ‘lateral world systems’, Willke considers that ‘a regime is the hybrid fusion of evolution and steering’. The term ‘steering’ is used here with the differentiated meaning of a system ‘capable to steer itself through intentional-rational strategies’ (Willke 2001a:169). Here, the basic question is, ‘Which are the self-steering mechanisms at the centre of the global legal system (international courts and tribunals, quasi-judicial mechanisms, or even ‘practices’ and ‘patterns of conduct’ (Ladeur 1999))?

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Systems analysis does not neglect the gap between function and performance of law, but assigns the question to the level of a ‘reflexive theory of law’. A reflexive theory of international law would examine the function in view of the performance (steering of state conduct, impact upon function systems) through the analytical and doctrinal tools of legal theory. Reflexion constitutes a programme for observing international law’s selfsteering capacity. Luhmann formulates the question as follows. [Reflexive theory] has to mediate between function and performance, because society is both comprehensive system as well as social environment. Stronger differentiation increases the autonomy of the system, but it simultaneously increases its dependence from the environment; the system becomes more independent in the regulation of its function, but more dependent in that other functions are fulfilled somewhere else. (Luhmann 1981b:440) Therefore, reflexive legal theory needs to abandon the ‘mono-cultural’ fixation on the traditional conceptual framework of the legal system. Here, Luhmann proposes to adopt the alternative strategy of viewing the legal system as a system in an environment of other systems. Through reflexive legal theory, the legal system seeks support from interdisciplinary research, which can take the form of structural coupling of the legal system with the scientific system. Luhmann insists that sociological theory cannot be directly utilized in the legal system. At best, it can be conceived as a perturbation or irritation that gives the legal system the opportunity to reorient itself to the new societal constructions and establish not its comprehensive unity but its boundaries on new external references (Luhmann 2004:429–31). In that sense, the ‘just peace’ clause permits international law to reorient reflexively its boundaries through selective assessment and ordering of elements of the world societal environment. Steering of systems as performance is, therefore, only one aspect of the distinction between the legal system and its societal environment. This new horizon broadens and enhances the capabilities of legal analysis enormously. To bridge the gap between function and performance, legal interpretation needs to observe the implications of what Teubner described as the essence of ‘co-evolution’. In the processes of co-evolution, it is not only the autopoiesis of the legal system that takes selectively effect on the development of its own structures, but also the autopoiesis of other societal subsystems and of society itself affects the selection of legal changes, even in an indirect way. (Teubner 1989:78) Interpreting international law does not mean ‘fixation’ on the counter-factuality of normative expectations. From an evolutionary-systemic perspective, the question is whether, and on what level, international legal norms, rules or principles change through

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the basic mechanisms of variation, selection and re-stabilization (Luhmann 2004:230– 73; 1997a: 451; Teubner 1989:61–80). Reflexive interpretation should conceive and (re-)assess the normative expectations keeping constantly in view the societal environment, as well as the expected performance for the other functional systems. Cognitive dimension and functional critique In his Rechtssoziologie, Luhmann has made a provocative analysis and hypothesis about the evolutionary features of international law and global law. He considered that in world society, law and politics cease to be primary development factors and risk carriers (Risikoträger) of societal evolution. On the contrary, it seems that the overdevelopment of the state-centred legal-political normativity constitutes an obstacle to the further evolution of world society, which orients itself to a rather cognitive evolutionary perspective (Luhmann 1983:338). World society is characterized by openness and structural indeterminacy—and this is a compensation for the fact that there is only one societal system. ‘The structure of the societal system must now be “weak” and compatible with the many possible situations of the system’ (ibid.: 337). However, he did not expect the normativity of law to be dismantled but the legal system to integrate strong cognitive elements instead. He considered the displacement of the evolution of law on the issue dimension to be possible, as well as the formulation of conduct models that would be appropriate for the solution of specific problems and could be changed, depending on the response of the systems-addresses. Based on this argument, he then points out that ‘normativity would only have the function to secure the constancy of expectations as long as it appears meaningful. The moral and ideological foundation of law would be substituted by functional critique’ (Luhmann 1983:32). In his later works, he warned against the risk of a breakdown of the legal code and the imposition of the ‘inclusion/exclusion’ distinction as a metacode—a development he considered to be the worst possible evolutionary path world society could assume (Luhmann 1997c; 2004:488–90). The increasing relevance of the inclusion/exclusion code should not, however, be considered as a necessary implication of the cognitivity of global law Luhmann concludes that in the present structure of world society, cognitive expectations are given priority over normativity (Luhmann 2004:468–69). Thus, cognitivity corresponds to the intrinsic structure of world society in the era of functional differentiation. In this sense, the increasing openness and sensitivity to the operation of function systems represents a cardinal and ambivalent dimension of contemporary international law. Instead of flexibility and adaptability to world society’s complexities, loss in normativity could, arguably, announce the beginning of a different evolutionary stage characterized by generalized corruption of the legal code, systemic ‘immorality’, dysfunctionality and, finally, de-differentiation and establishment of the meta-code ‘inclusion/exclusion’. From a different side, inflation of normativity in the ‘proto-juridical’ form of ‘ethics of international relations’ constitutes also a major irritation-burden upon the legal system, testing its capacity to operate ‘under duress’ (Luhmann 1999). Admittedly, Luhmann seems increasingly pessimistic about the

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significance of law in world society. In the concluding sentence of ‘Law as a Social System’ he does not exclude the possibility that law will progressively lose its prominence. Therefore it may well be that the current prominence of the legal system and the dependence of society itself and of most of its functional systems on a functioning legal coding are nothing but a European anomaly, which might well level off with the evolution of world society. (Luhmann 2004:490) Teubner developed the notion of neo-spontaneous law and ‘hybrid regulation’ (Teubner 2002) and explained the emergence of autonomous transnational private or public legal regimes. Since his famous essay on the ‘global Bukowina’ (Teubner 1997b), he has further refined and developed this theoretical approach (Teubner 2003). In his coauthored writings with Andreas Fischer-Lescano, the cognitivity of global law is seen in its fragmentation and in the particular development of legal regimes that are being shaped in structural coupling with differentiated societal spheres. This phenomenon is described as follows. The traditional differentiation in line with the political principle of territoriality into relatively autonomous national legal orders is thus overlain by a sectoral differentiation principle: the differentiation of global law into transnational legal regimes, which define the external reach of their jurisdiction along issue-specific rather than territorial lines, and which claim a global validity for themselves. (Fischer-Lescano and Teubner 2004:1009) Thus, global law develops as ‘law without a state’ within an environment of various function systems. Thus, it assumes features idiosyncratic to the cognitive learning adaptability of the economy, science, sports or the Internet, rather than the normative expectation structures of politics or morality (ibid.: 1009–12). Peer Zumbansen radicalizes the standpoints of Luhmann and Teubner and criticizes the arteriosclerosis of public international law—its alleged lack of cognitive capacity—as being responsible for its failure to adapt its structures and fulfil its function. Moreover, he considers co-evolution with the political system as unproductive, since law and politics are considered to have ceased to be the ‘risk carriers’ of societal evolution. He concludes that functionally differentiated systems are giving birth to ‘spontaneous constitutions’ and to novel forms of global law, while international law is in decline (Zumbansen 2001). Fischer-Lescano focuses on the emergence of a ‘global constitution’ and emphasizes the role of civil society in the shaping of global law and jus gentium, in particular, with respect to what he calls ‘lex humana‘ (Fischer-Lescano: 2005, 2003, 2002a, 2002b). On the one hand, the element of cognitive adaptability appears in his work through the construction of two separate rules of recognition for jus gentium, the colère publique mondiale and the public international law (Fischer-Lescano 2005). On the other hand, Fischer-Lescano and Liste adamantly reject any idea of ‘flexibilization’ of legal norms, because they consider the stability of expectations as the defining moment of

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international legal norms (Fischer-Lescano and Liste 2005). Fischer-Lescano raises, for instance, jus cogens into the status of ‘formal constitutional law’ of the global political constitution (Fischer-Lescano 2003:743–47; for a provocative and early critique of the jus cogens character of norms relating to the prohibition of torture, see Luhmann 1993). Willke raised cognitivity into a separate dimension of law (Willke 2003:95–102). He ascertained a ‘labilization of normativity’, heralded by the legal system itself that has sanctioned an evolutionary path of heterogeneity and heteronomy, despite strong objections and anxieties originating from various sides (ibid.: 94). In the example of the WTO, he recognized the dominance of the cognitive expectations style in the increasing significance of expertise in the dispute settlement procedure. If the outcome of procedures is dependent upon ‘systemic knowledge’, then the ‘basic operations’ of the system are qualified by their cognitive adaptation capacity rather than by the affirmation of normative counter-factuality (ibid.: 305–9). His position is in line with his overall evaluation of contemporary society as a ‘knowledge society’ and with knowledge as a steering medium (Willke 2001b:246). Karl-Heinz Ladeur raises cognitivity into a cardinal feature of postmodern law. He considers that not only judicial decisions, but also individual acts, such as contracts, should be placed at the centre of the legal system (Ladeur 1999:17) and that judicial decisions are becoming increasingly future-oriented, while past practice is rapidly devalued (ibid.: 30). He then criticizes Luhmann for opposing judicial decision-making based on risk evaluation. What is increasingly relevant is the ability to give an account of nondeductive decision-making creating coordination among, in particular, organizations, or between firms and groups of customers, or permitting the management of complex forms of high technology, etc. At this point, Luhmann appears to be hostile even towards some versions of legal decision-making which are based on risk evaluation. This type of decision-making is suspected of trespassing the limits of the legal system: risk is a phenomenon which is supposed to undermine legality because it openly excludes the set-up of stable expectations, a risk-decision being characterized by the assumption that facts will only be known in the future. (ibid.). The risk factor is at the core of doctrinal controversies in the area of international law, the so-called ‘pre-emptive self-defence’ being one of the prominent cases. On this basis, Ladeur reformulates the theory of autopoietic law as follows. I think autopoietic theory should not be regarded—as Luhmann regards it—as the one and only scientific construction of modern law but, rather, as a concept for the description of postmodern law because it is more open to plural concepts of law, to decision-making under conditions of uncertainty (high technology, information, society etc.) and to a renewed conception of the cooperative transformative nature of law which has

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become necessary because society is much more future-oriented than in the past and has to accept a constant process of the devaluation of established knowledge and of the rules or patterns based thereupon. (ibid.: 35) On this basis, a systems’ theoretical conception of law could be used to design an open legal structure which could integrate flexible institutional elements of order into the process of the generation of knowledge which has to adapt to the requirements of a productive self-organized evolution of technological and economic self-transformation of society (ibid.: 44). The cyclopean ‘normative egoism’ of international law (see Willke 2001a: 192), that is, the overvaluation of the stability of normative expectations and of their resistance to evolution and unplanned change, can be restrained by its reflexive self-steering capacity. This ‘interpretive turn’ presupposes that the function is viewed with respect to its performance for the solution of the problems of world society—even though the suspicion has always loomed that international law possesses only very limited capabilities to impose specific conduct patterns upon states. In their self-referential mode, global law and international law can address this question only within their own conceptual and analytical framework or through ‘ultracyclical’ observation of other functional systems (Teubner 1999:12–14), including the global political and economic systems. Whether the organs or systems at the centre or at the periphery of the international legal system are successful in occupying such a self-reflexive observation post depends on their specific ‘programme of action’. Again, the interpreter’s second order perspective and functional critique of law needs to constantly oscillate between self-referential legal and doctrinal interpretations and hetero-referential observation of world society’s evolutionary processes.

The programme of all programmes World society finds itself in an era of accelerated evolution and increased conflict. The hegemonic space of world society will continue to expand, the project of modernity and postmodernity cannot but be carried forward, and the core issue of international law is how to better manage and facilitate this expansion, not how to reverse it by clinging to an alleged, forever lost, era of innocence of state sovereignty. Through the ‘just peace’ programme, a reflexive theory (and functional critique) of international law can undertake the effort to synchronize the orientation of legal interpretation with the speed of societal evolution. International law needs to be interpreted by maintaining the optimal capacity of both the normative and the cognitive dimension. Paradoxically, the ‘innate asymmetries’ of world society do not nullify the ‘just peace’ programme, but rather inspire it. In the horizon of world society-building, international law needs to be increasingly willing to learn and be supportive of regional and global integration processes through various venues, techniques and regimes (Petersmann 2002), while, at the same time, resisting disintegration and exclusion. Two sub-strategies are emerging as pillars of ‘just

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peace’ namely, proliferation of ‘good governance’ structures and standards—most of them designed and applied in the hegemonic centre—;, as well as constitutionalization of transnational regimes. The proliferation of good governance structures, or the ‘return of the standard of civilization’ (Fidler 2001), creates conditions conducive to the pacification of specific regions and to the regular functioning of social systems. On the level of world society, ‘immorality’ signifies the generalized corruption of systems’ codes (Luhmann 1997a:1043). The ‘allopoiesis’ of law in many parts of the developing world (Neves 2001) needs to be viewed also as a systemic and fundamental breach of internationally protected human rights norms and principles and as one of the major sources of global instability. Human rights and democratization are foundational elements of good governance, because they stabilize the differentiation among various spheres of action and create a safety net against the risks of de-differentiation (on human rights theory from the standpoint of MST, see Luhmann 1986a; Verschraegen 2002; Neves 2005). ‘Negative’ and economic freedoms in particular create institutional guarantees for the generation of social order through individual action and are constitutive for the self-organizational potential of society (Ladeur 2000). Gay and women’s rights are derived from the irreducible normative core of the ‘dignity and worth of the human person’ (cf. preamble of the UN Charter), so that states are under the obligation to secure these rights, notwithstanding regional cultural specificities. Development cannot be thought of without the participation of all segments of the population and without a fair legal order that trusts people and their creativity. Proliferation of good governance structures from the centre to the periphery of world society may take the form of customary law (cf. Oeter 2001) or ‘general principles’ with particular emphasis on international economic law. The ‘just compensation’ standard in investment disputes (Schwebel 2004) and the principle of non-discrimination in the WTO system (High Commissioner for Human Rights 2004) are examples of principles that guarantee a long-term viability of development strategies. Proliferation of standards may be the effect of armed conflict. The UN Charter has clearly disapproved of wars of aggression (see Art. 2, para. 4, 39 and 51 of the Charter). However, in the post-Cold War era the situation is more ambiguous, as the discourse on risk management, humanitarian intervention, regime change or preventive/preemptive/anticipatory use of force demonstrates. It seems that the legitimacy and legality of unilateral interventions from the centre to the periphery for the prevention of major systemic risks depends heavily on the minimization of human cost and on the effectiveness of post-conflict peace-building. The emergence of transnational legal regimes is concomitant with the fragmentation of international and global law. Though formalism considers fragmentation a stability deficit of contemporary legal order, the constitutionalization of transnational regimes, such as the WTO and the EU, constitutes an evolutionary achievement that enables the re-stabilization of international legal relations on an emerging new threshold of global order (Walter 2001; Symposium 1999, 2004). Indeed, the development of auto-constitutional mechanisms, including the creation of regime-specific adjudication organs, leads to a different conceptualization of democratic governance, rule of law and self-determination. The principle of democratic governance

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assumes a broader significance beyond the state and the sphere of the political system. World societal processes generate new ‘functional polities’ that operate according to regime-specific programmes of action. Self-determination appears to mutate into a principle applicable to the operation of transnational regimes and progressively displaces the prohibition of the use of force as the foundational norm of global governance (Skordas forthcoming). Autoconstitutional regimes achieve a level of autonomy that can shield the systemic interest from interventionist strategies of powerful member states or groups of member states. In that sense, the constitutionalization of regimes as a parallel process may also increase the legitimacy of the proliferation of good governance standards. Finally, despite the rising complexity of dispute settlement due to the fragmentation, international cooperation among judges and jurisdictional fora can prevent misuse of dispute settlement mechanisms and can guarantee justice by the conflict resolution (Petersmann 2004). ‘Just peace’, as the ‘programme of all programmes’ of international law, can be summarized provisionally as (a) the proliferation of good governance standards and (b) the constitutionalization of transnational regimes. The two processes are mutually reinforcing, depict the steering capacity of international law and enable the observer to assess the performance of the legal system in the era of world society. Once again, ‘just peace’ is not a catalogue of virtues. Yet, it is a meta-programme for the generation of larger freedom through the recognition of asymmetry in world society.

Notes 1 I am indebted to Gunther Teubner for the invaluable guidance and support he has provided to my research. I also thank Andreas Fischer-Lescano, Stephan Stetter, Vaios Karavas, Eugenia Vathakou and Oliver P.Richmond for their comments. Maria Panezi has been an excellent research assistant. The usual disclaimer applies.

10 The irony of terror The morality-sensitive nerve in the criticism of violence Gertrud Brücher

Introduction In the view of modern systems theory, society is a social system which compasses all sense-making communications. Society is understood as a world society. Yet, different expectations intersect the continuity of communications in world society. Expectations thus create territorial, cultural and functional system boundaries. In the introduction, Stephan Stetter emphasizes that systems theory contrasts with most IR approaches which regard conflicts as a state of emergency or as something that should be avoided. While communications can always be accepted or rejected, every rejection is able to promote conflicts, if this rejection is followed by yet another rejection. On this basis, systems theory distinguishes between different expectations, which force chain rejections and stabilize conflict systems. Yet, conflict systems are often able to avoid violence and destructive mechanisms. The following contribution intends to relativize this self-idealization, which—as is argued here—has an underlying tendency to degrade non-Western cultures. These are constructed as being intolerant, not willing to learn and unable to keep peace. In contrast to this point of view system theory, as developed by Niklas Luhmann, does not support any superiority. Comparing the liberal irony as a mentality of western ideology to other forms of irony, namely tragic and cybernetic irony, this chapter will seek to identify ways of promoting a mentality of peace in world society. Traumatic experiences are afflictions which disrupt the feeling of security provided by familiar routines. They are a break with the past, in the sense of a displacement of contexts, breaking of habits or the omission of expected sequences of occurrence. What preceded no longer defines the meaning of what follows. The naked event takes the place of familiar structural determination. It is naked because it does not submit to the sequence of expectable events and, therefore, lacks interpretative aids. However, what is unpleasant and painful—like a taste of the approaching end carrying the feeling of individual or collective death—is also a new beginning. The negative, painful, disconcerting, hence, is the other side of this process. If the traumatic event was not the prediction of an end, then it was the prediction of a beginning. As such, it possesses the same qualities as the contractions before birth. A third option seems to be ruled out—tertium non datur. This either/or rationalization (or thinking) is the reason why people or societies characterized by crises appear to hold some magical attraction for

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events which help the crisis to reach the point of culmination, which at the crossroads, offers a binary challenge to fate, as if stagnation was worse than death. Collectives then stop following the path of their ritualized life. An absolute standstill is not only experienced in static, traditional, change-resistant societies. It can, also, increasingly be found in those highly industrialized and technical societies, which no longer stabilize their societal structures by maintaining expectations but, rather, by restructuring expectations. Insecurity is everywhere, but one thing is surely expectable—the constant change of expectation. If sociology describes the modern functionally differentiated societies in this manner, then it is defining that turning point which allows transformation to come to a standstill at the height of its progress. There is, once again, a secure, fixed point of orientation, namely, the assurance that the conditions which have only just become familiar will change in the next moment. This situation will come to be dominated by an atmosphere of revolt. Those willing to conform or those addicted to conformity, choose the collectively sanctioned means of revolt, the construction of scapegoats, which is not only expected to atone for the unbearable anticipatable insecurity of expectation, but also for the terrible event, which as a crisis, is practically longed into existence by the crisis-shaken perceptions. Thus, the terror events of 11 September 2001 are presented to the world as the founding myth, not only for a newly born and integrated US prepared to retaliate but, for the entire community of Western values. If it is communication by which social systems as such are defined, then social trauma has always already been worked through. In this respect, it may differ from psychic trauma which cannot be contained in the temporary content of an individual’s consciousness in the same way and the processing-presence disappears as soon as another less burdensome content displaces the horrifying event, regardless of whether the displacement is desired or not. Collective trauma is only useful for founding a new feeling of community, if it can be communicated. Overloading a myth with new and different content does not cause it to disappear but allows the myth to continue to be effective as a culture-creating segment within the latent pre-structuring of current conversations. For that reason, it may be important to elaborate on the collective processing of myth formation after 9/11, in its role as a threat to peace, while the memories in the minds of those communicating are fresh and still a subject of discourse. Later, the critics will continue on the paths forged by synthesized contradictions, which today still divide the behaviour of the right-liberal wing of political realism from that of the left-liberal wing of world encompassing human rights. The former is united by the strategy concept of preventative wars. The latter is unified in the strategy concept of interventionism in the name of human rights. Collective trauma initiates discussion about various mentalities. This is a way of dealing with aspects of life which are unthinkable, which are part of the standard repertoire of collectives and which cling, like a shadow, to the personal profiles of their members. Thus, every community, which socializes individuals in their way of thinking, creates homogenized common elements which foster conformity in the way they react to events. Generations, political parties, companies, trade unions and clubs each produce and support different mentalities and approaches for solving problems. What often seem to be minute differences in behavioural expectations may, in a group, turn into selfdescribed value communities, constructed barriers to the rest of the world. Writers who

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engrave these differences as a permanent feature in the collective mentality are those celebrities who became famous for expressing what was going on under the skin of the collective subconsciousness, i.e. the processes of magical attraction and the processes of working through traumatic events, through the use of myths. 11 September 2001 offered all the opportunities associated with the structuring of such a founding myth. Anyone who finds this formulation cynical, is overlooking the euphemistic components which were evident in a re-enactment created by an entertainment firm which, using simulation techniques, made the virtual fall of the World Trade Centre’s two towers a hot item. This is a demonstration of a frantic attempt to preserve the mentality of ‘liberal irony’ with which the West, with its superior attitude of reflective relativism, sets itself apart from the ‘underdeveloped’ rest of the world (see Bonacker and Noetzel 2003). In this view, the rest of the world is inhibited in its ability to enjoy liberal high spirits due to poverty, religion and tradition. Obviously, the ‘others’ cannot enjoy these because they have not made adequate developmental progress and they are obviously not interested in doing so, because they have not (yet) accepted consumerism as the epitome of good living (see Bolz 2002). If irony determines the postEnlightenment Western profile—because only irony describes the attitude that is as unthinkable and indecisive as the value relativity which serves as the foundation of Western culture—then irony must also reflect the ambivalences of traumatic events.

Liberal irony as a mentality The liberal irony, as developed by Richard Rorty (2001), describes an attitude of ‘urbanity’, i.e. a remote consideration which rests on the ability to distance and to relativize one’s self. Used in the sense of a form of action, irony in the concept of ironification has the connotation that remoteness from one’s self precedes distancing one’s self from others. This is unavoidable to some extent because people tend to see themselves through others. Ironification creates more potential for conflict the moment it touches on existential questions. This could be expressed maliciously. Thus, an ironicist plays with the destruction of fundamental principles which acquire no existential significance to him because he feels safe in his milieu. His deconstructive potency is dependent on the fact that others construct the very essentialisms, which he ironicizes. The relevance of irony to peace as a form of operation is a matter of context, more exactly it depends on the proximity and remoteness to existential concerns. It is possible to construct a flow chart, which illustrates these transitions, while these transitions can progress in either direction Ironicist → liberal → tolerant → self-distanced → person, who respects the opinions of others → person, who takes the interests, opinions and beliefs of others seriously → person, who filters out the general degree of these interests, opinions, etc. → essentialist → metaphysicist → epigone → radical → intolerant → fundamentalist → terrorist, a just or holy warrior. Liberal irony tries to maintain its moderation; it tries to oscillate between the poles while sensing the impossibility, but also the necessity, of communicating the complete message. That indicates an acceptance of paradoxes. But why is acceptance necessary?

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Simply, the acceptance of coercion to avoid violence, introducing values, an acceptance of reality, factual knowledge and truth are a part of moral nature. Keeping the peace remains the desiderium, the petitio principii of the moral-transcending ironic attitude. But, even when an ironically tempered viewpoint is adopted in order to uphold the discourse, peace, urbanity and civilized life, this is a good intention which, nevertheless, can have negative effects. Liberal irony comes up against tragic irony, whereby the question arises how liberal irony is able to cope with disappointments. The primary purpose of all attitudes is to work through disappointments. The metaphysicist or normativist clings to good intentions even if they have bad effects, i.e. counter-factual expectations. The classic ironist, the cynic, but also the radical constructivist, negate all validity, all truth and values and are spared the disappointment of failure. The liberal ironicist knows that expectations can be disappointed and clings to expectations merely out of practical necessity. And s/he passes on this knowledge to others. However, if the conditions permit, expectations can be restructured. The liberal ironicist is also basically willing to learn—in other words, is open to cognitive expectation (see Luhmann 1987b:40). Cognitive expectations have the most comprehensive prerequisites; there must be a genuine will for peace and coexistence. Liberal irony is thus based on a cooperative way of pursuing everyday life. Cognitive expectations or liberal irony can only serve as an alternative to a metaphysicist, who is unwilling to learn and to a cynical ironicist, if the performative structures include the emotional processing of disappointments even under extreme conditions, such as a threat to existence or questions of existential importance. For Rorty, the language performance of liberal irony covers working through disappointments only under conditions of a functioning liberal democracy. This raises the question of a more detailed description of the relationship between tragic and liberal irony.

Tragic irony In the context of developing a collective awareness for ecological concerns, Luhmann (1986b) presented the provocative thesis that society could not be threatened, because every perceived danger only leads to an intensification of communication and, thus, the very constitution of society. Nuclear proliferation, mass immigration, HIV/AIDS or the mad cow disease all create a diffuse potential for societal fear as an identification based on communication. The societal discourse on terrorism has greatly surpassed the previous risk communication in its social-hygienic function, not least because this danger is rooted in the phenomenon of globalization, as were the previous bouts of fear. In contrast to all other millennium fears, terrorism provoked a classic pattern of reaction, namely, a political counter-attack—restriction of the rights to freedom and constitutional processes—and a military counter-attack—war. However, both terrorism and the socalled ‘war against terror’ are turning into ironic overtures. They join the ranks of image fabrication, which prepares a label for everything—in a sense, a logo for terror. This divides the horrible event of 11 September into two parts. It is the exact opposite of peaceful civilized coexistence and, therefore, operates as its counter-value. It is precisely this everyday violence which creates an awareness of one’s own state of

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civilization and love of freedom. Thus, it has a culture-generating effect. This is how events come about which, following the terror attacks on New York and Washington in September 2001—or the previous mutual expulsion and massacre of Serbs and KosovoAlbanians in the year 1999—seem, at first, to be incompatible with open, secular, pluralistic and value-neutral democracies—namely, an entirely unironic emotionally uninvolved Manichenism and secular fundamentalism. The negative, even in the brutal form of massacred Kosovars, suffering refugees or people jumping from skyscrapers, does not remain negative, but transforms itself into a positive generator for creating a feeling of group identity, the founding of alliances, the forced expansion of the militarily supported power structures. The traditional explanation for these transformations from negative to positive is that the terrible event is not only instrumentalized for power politics and economic purposes, but also, for psycho-hygienic purposes. The counter-strategy is then obvious. The distortion by interest groups must be uncovered, those who profit from these distortions must be named and the mechanisms, which can make deception look like the truth, be identified. It is very important to separate lies, error and truth, on the one hand, from the search for the background and the motives for the instrumentalization of terror, on the other. However, there is an uncertainty in this context concerning the confusion of levels of reality and staged deceit. These terrible facts slip into the awareness of the public and are transformed at the time of their presentation, so that the reality behind the marketing again moves beyond reach. Every enemy serves as a preconceived image of the enemy. This marketing mechanism has become a lived or practical constructivism (Brücher 2004b). Death and destruction can hardly threaten a society, constituted on the continuation of communication, which reacts to such terrible events. That is in itself a highly dangerous aspect of tragic irony. Death is beyond the reach of someone who is communicating; it remains a construct and, therefore, serves as a reliable means of support for the functioning of society. This implies that the responsibility for death stems from a construct. It is not actually the actor who is the cause of terror. For this reason, there are vast differences in responsibility. For one, the assassins are guilty and should be tried by an international court, such as the International Court of Justice or the International Criminal Court. However, suicide bombers cannot be prosecuted by judicial procedures. Others hold the social structures, which give rise to terrorists or those inclined to violence, morally and legally responsible. In that case, the enemy has been identified as the unjust economic structures, the circumstances of political hegemony and—what is more or less dependent on hegemony-a media culture which glorifies violence or undemocratic regimes which deny basic human rights—in the past, the ethnicnationalistic Serbia, later the fundamentalist Taliban in Afghanistan, and then later, Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Every criticism of violence in someone else’s name—violence in the name of peace, civilization, Western values, human rights or the communal discourse—must be able to break free from the cycle of reality and constructions of reality, in order to discredit the accusation from the opposition, i.e. that nothing has changed but the name of the defendant. This hits the sensitive moral nerve in the criticism of violence—whether it is the criticism of political authorities, of the victimized society or the alternative media’s criticism of those who promote attacking ‘everyone, who offers the terrorists refuge’ or

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the ‘axis of evil’ (George W.Bush). The practical and theoretical problem is to speak pacifistically about peace, not in the sense of a commitment to a violence-free morality, but as a mandate for constant criticism. This can only refer to a manner of dealing with a paradox, which cannot break out of the cycle of reality construction.

Corrections of cybernetic irony What is demonstrated by these considerations concerns consequences which will eventually make constructivism and polyvalent logic1 relevant to the concept of efficient and legitimate trade (see also Gumin and Mohler 1985; Schmidt 1987; Watzlawick and Krieg 1991 for constructivism, and Günther 1976–80 for polyvalent logic). The attitude of liberal irony, which argues that tolerance and a willingness to learn is conducive to peace, just as the subjective emotional entanglement in a particular cultural, religious and social context has been the cause of animosity between people, is countered by tragic irony. This has the result and side effect of self-reflected, distanced behaviour, which transforms peace engendering intentions into the opposite or, with the intention of the tragic event—the pain inflicted on people—can only be meaningfully understood and accepted as a positive contribution in the communication after the fact (see Brücher 2002:373). In Nietzschean influenced systems theory, Peter Sloterdijk makes irony an attitude and a tool to be used against ‘the morality of the need to accuse’, which, in the worst case, is the ‘applied extermination’ (Sloterdijk 2000a:27) that we encounter today in the form of fundamentalist terrorism—and also in the counter-frenzy of the ‘war on terror’. The suggestion which promises relief is part of a new ethic of practiced constructivism, derived from a ‘culture of complexities’. The secret of this mentality—and its source of power—lies in its ability to resist the illusion of endurance, safety and allegiance. Yet, Sloterdijk thinks less of the revolutionary contribution of this attitude in this somewhat passive variation. He surpasses the classical forms of Socratic, humble distancing and the romantic, all-relativizing irony, with a ‘cybernetic irony’. This cybernetic irony operatively changes the act of dealing with tragedy. New conduct in the mode of irony is anticipated. That is an extension which should not be underestimated, primarily as a response to the mundane perception that sees irony more as a form of observation combined with appropriate behaviour.2 Because cybernetic irony was designed as an operation, at first nothing will be forced but the translation of polyvalent logic to ontology, the differentiation of being and not being. Hence, the plurality of realities in virtual reality is added to the plurality of truths and is also added to the project character of human existence. Both are a product of productive action. The translation of attitude to action has consequences because the perception of constructivist reality is merely the result of the lack of differentiation of categorical standards—including standards of thought and behaviour, of theory and practice, of mind and matter. Irony which desires to be an operation, oscillates between productivity and destructivity, not in the sense of criticism which tries to overcome the bad but, rather, in the sense of the old concept of subversion by affirmation—in a similar way to fashionable consumer goods that often defy market logic. Good arguments are expensive

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label items; bad arguments are merely wares. The natural deterioration is evolution’s equalizer, which kindly relieves mankind of the burden of moral and ethic responsibility. At the level of inversed differentiations, production can be destructive and destruction can be productive. This does not bring about new insights, although it does acquire a new form of perspective by removing the drama from the inversion of good intentions into negative effects. Now evolution takes the place of morality and asserts itself in every aspect in which morality plays a role, i.e. in the context of what asserts itself as being true, as being reality, legal, legitimate, normal, educated or rational. The separation of the preferred from the rejected is simply moral nature—and Nietzsche was the first to support this observation in opposition to Immanuel Kant. The technical term cybernetic irony raises some questions about the intentions behind its creation. Are the peace-threatening effects of moral character, both the asymmetrical and polarized, neglected by an attitude which relativizes not only one’s own foundation but also that of others? Why is it deemed favourable to avoid moral differentiation, when the motivation for this avoidance implies hypostasizing a preference—which is an infiltration of morality? Cybernetic irony enters the plan as a mode of irony which does not allow itself to be discouraged by faux pas. This is possible when an ontological awareness is added to the moral and the logical contingency awareness—the awareness that expectations can be disappointed (see Luhmann 1981a:14). The act of floating between the poles of good and bad, true and false, is complemented by the act of floating between being and not being. This entails an implied obliteration of the differentiation between life and death for the basis of legitimacy of both individual and collective action, especially with regard to reproductive medicine and killing.3 Liberal irony, as a means for the autoimmunization of society as a protection from fundamentalism, overcomes its susceptibility to disappointment only when the negative, in the sense of undesirable side effects and results of behaviour, is not seen as something that seems to come unpredictably and dangerously from outside, but as a component of action. Only when the distinction of the ontological difference becomes so radical that the performer of an action melts together with the action’s object, will mankind be unhindered in its drive to action which includes the modern conditions in which the individual nearly vanishes behind the significance of the effects of complex systems of action. The actor is now a component of action both in the sense of an entity to be worked and material to be used up. This is what Sloterdijk means by lived constructivism. The three modes of irony mentioned here characterize three ‘contingency-production sites’ to which they are attributed. Liberal irony is an attitude of an acting subject— attributed either individually or collectively—which is brought forth by a consciousness aware of contingency. Here, physical disposition and culture are demonstrated to be similarly tuned imperatives of tolerance and willingness to learn. In the case of tragic irony, the contingency is based on its circumstances where concepts of rationality and causality are engaged in a hopeless search in the dark. Evolution is the remaining means of attribution when a lack of knowledge and ability, calculation and steering mechanisms

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is registered. The third, cybernetic irony, demonstrates a perspective for avoiding selfblockages brought about by modernity through maximising contingency and through being compelled to cling to the axiom of unlimited ability even in a highly complex and worldwide network of functions.

Breaking down distinctions and enabling more humanity Finding a solution to this problem is essential to the human profile of the Western value community, which, presently, is again preparing to make use of the instrument of military intervention. Self-confidence and a sense of civilized, moral superiority, which do not recognize borders, are a sharp contrast to the lack of ethics tailored to the modern actors and system of action. Sloterdijk’s ethics of complexity could fill this gap, although not without the help of an image of humanity, which—to follow Jurgen Habermas— completely eliminates the conditions for people to act responsibly according to their selfperception of ethics. A breakdown of the differentiation between made and grown (Habermas 2001a:80) in which the anticipated liberal eugenetics meets ‘acting only on that which was made’, thereby eliminating the figure, the autonomous subject. This created a perception of man as a being for whom the process of self-transforming and world changing action can be restarted at any time. However, if this individual in his/her natural state conforms to the design of a programmer, then the action will no longer meet ‘one which was not made’ and will counteract itself as an action capable of responsible behaviour. This becomes fate or the moment of evolution in an event which human willpower can no longer control. Presumably, a culture’s attractiveness and ability to transcend borders is influenced by what could be called sincere humanity. That is why the diametric contributions to ethics from humanism and post-humanism tend to cause insecurity, because it is no longer merely the interpretation of identical values which is subject to disposition, but the very conditions which make any kind of value decision possible. Both of these proposals for anti-fundamentalism are obviously mutually exclusive. Hence, on the one hand, the elimination of made and grown will save cybernetic irony and secular ethics, by ceasing to differentiate between subject and object, thereby eliminating the distance between the results of action and the intention as a source of disappointment. There is now no divergence of cause and effect in action because as a moment of technical self-creation, it is endless. On the other hand, the difference between made and grown is the primary condition both for distance to one’s own emotions and for the concepts of unavailability and protection from loss which lends direction and meaning to the techniques of availability, giving them a human profile. The peace-making qualities of liberal irony can withstand the impact of the tragic, the irony of terror, only when the figure of the autonomous subject—who always defends himself/herself against the human deformation brought about by unfavourable influences—remains unharmed. The attitude towards the defence of the Western value community in the sense of ‘humanitarian colonialism’ takes a position in the fundamental conflict between the humanist and post-humanist fate of mankind (see Strobe and Nay an 2002). The cultural profile has become ill with the ‘slinking entropy of the limited resource meaning’, which Habermas4 places in the context of a certain misdirection in the process of secularization.

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The project of demystifying, which in the course of scientific development has led to the impersonalization of nature, also progressed to impersonalization of mankind. The substantiation of the subject of self-determination brings with it the loss of the special humanity of enlightened profane morality, built into the laws limiting not only the power of the rulers, but also governing the particularist belief of religious zealots. If the definition of a human being becomes a matter of whimsical definition and with it the subject of law and profane morality, then the actual goal of the Enlightenment, replacing violence with discourse, has failed. Habermas recommends a return to the religious sources of profane morality for the formation of a post-secular society. This would restore the superiority of the West over the not yet enlightened regions, by the fact that it turns to religious semantics to find the moral foundation of law, the foundations for the precedence of discourse over violence. The humanist criticism makes it evident that the culture of the West is threatened with the loss of its humane profile and may gamble away the advantages of the Enlightenment because, increasingly, it is forgetting the importance of speaking about peace nonviolently. As soon as discourse itself becomes subject to negotiation, violence has already replaced discourse. If being human is subjected to certain criteria, then it is theoretically possible to eliminate certain people from the ‘project of mankind’ (Brücher 2004a). The inhumanity of these cultural premises surpasses the inhumanity of all traditional concepts of man which compare existing people to an ideal image of man. The latter contains good and bad, perfect and imperfect people along with a rationalization for violence based on that distinction. Transhumanism declares mankind itself to be a project which requires no legitimacy for its violent acts (see Jongen 2001). The character of the project eliminates the need for agreement from the object of manipulation and suspends violence as a distinctive phenomenon, which cannot be differentiated from non-violent forms of influence.

Polyvalence and the capacity for peace The irony of pursuing this subject lies in the fact that the same structures which are made responsible for the erosion of the resource of meaning as outlined by Habermas (2001a), can be used as an antidote. Pluralism, which has now become a relative value, comprises both the strength and weakness of secular morality in which peace as a desideratum need not be tangential. Peace remains unchallenged—a transcendental giant. Values, in their relativity, can only be subjected to disposition in the context of a secure discourse milieu which does not question coexistence. Put simply: in order to negotiate, one must be present. When the subject of the capacity for language and action is included in value relativity, peace, as a transcendental giant, cannot be challenged. Then the relationship of conditions for discourse and coexistence is lost. Once this relationship has been thrown overboard, it cannot be reinstated within discourse theory. This is why Habermas turns to religious heritage. He tries to solve a problem of logic by applying a tradition in which the problem did not occur. Until now, there have been no concrete suggestions on how semantics could replace logic. This hopelessness is caused by the fact that Habermas did

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not include the latest stage of relativism in his considerations. The radical overthrow of Cartesianism in polyvalent logic (see Günther 1976–80) is the intensification of value relativity. Polyvalent logic goes beyond pluralism by not restricting the comparison of empirical considerations to those with discriminating values. Relativity and the need for negotiation is now based on the transcendental level, the basis for the negotiation for everything negotiable, the selection of a cognitive pattern. Evaluations which rate military interventions according to considerations of life and death or whether they are profitable and unprofitable will be considered of equal value. Simultaneously, the transition from bivalent logic to polyvalent logic seems to eliminate the elementary problem underlying peace (Sloterdijk 1999). The dualism of positive and negative values causes people to take an absolute view of their own positive value. That is because no one wants to be placed in the context of evil, falsehood and error. On the other hand, the entire problem of peace seems to be based on a false description. As soon as the description is corrected, it becomes evident that peace has been declared a value sui generis and is subject to negotiation. Peace disappears as a value and appears as an unintentional by-product of cognitive correction. The post-humanist leap from polyvalence to a capacity for peace is based on two problematic interpretations. Firstly, polyvalence is seen as merely an intensification of pluralism and, therefore, also an intensification of permissiveness and feasibility. Secondly, the observer is anthropologized. This allows everyone, who acts in the name of the new world order, to see a confirmation of his/her own claim to leadership. Only an operative, constructivist version, can demonstrate a relationship to peace in this transition. Post-humanism informs practical constructivism about itself. One thing it does not explain is the fact that it places only one particular variant—social constructivism5—in a position conducive to directing actions. It is precisely this variant which is epistemologically untenable, because it overemphasizes the part of the theory pertaining to the subject, which is problematic as it eliminates the omnipotence of the actor. Operative constructivism6 needs to corrects this deficit and pave the way for a thinking which is becoming universally established and permits reflection in two ways: first, in relation to the question why it is able to assert itself; secondly, in relation to identifying the source of its self-deception. Social constructivism resolved the doubt imposed on social sciences, as to the ability to recognize objective social mechanisms, by placing society in the position of the recognizing subject. As the recognizing subject and the recognized object merge, the constructivist recognition, by which everything societal is constructed, loses its informational value. Not only are the borders between the poles of law and justice, man and woman, peace and war, violence and non-violence considered conventional and contingent, so too are the borders between life and death. Following the polyvalent logic, the differences are merely social constructions and are worth no more than differences such as profitable/unprofitable or progressive/backward. The differences within the constructivist schools today are no longer purely academic matters. They are becoming increasingly significant in practice as well as for the selfperception of actors. Social constructivism knows neither truths, values nor realities, which exist in the sense of being not-constructed. If postmodernism perceives autocratic

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characteristics in the subject, it is because this perception of the system conceals similar dangers by providing the intellectual framework for globalization and the construction of a system without an environment. The leap from the language-philosophical turning point to a political/ economic authoritarianism and cybernetic totalitarianism (Lanier 2000) is based on the identification of the system with a humanity which is self-transforming. Social constructivism neglects the fact that the system is only a concept. Moreover, as a paradox, the system cannot be grasped. That means that society and humanity can be described as a system, but the system is neither the society nor humanity and will not find its definitive personification in either of the two. As a context which differentiates itself from that which is outside, system refers to the state of affairs in which everything in existence is perceptible only as a construction of the observer. The observer is also a context, which differentiates itself from that which is outside, both with regard to itself and to others. Such self-referencing operations thus ultimately break down the difference between subject and object. Constructivist system theory can only be the actor which encourages the differentiation between system and environment, observing those inside and those outside, reality construction, action, change and structuring. The observer is no hyper-macro subject and, thus, the epistemological framework for a concept of man which transcends the human hubris of subject-philosophical epochs.

Human contours of restructured collective self-description It has already been mentioned that collective trauma is worked through by creating myths which are constantly being re-enacted by the culture of remembrance. In this they serve the formation of community. Because, after an event which has been raised to the status of a collective trauma, a restructuring of societal self-description is due, many suggestions will be made as to what the self-description should look like. The material from which this image is to be composed is already available. The new construction cannot create this material; it must operate with what it finds or it must rearrange the existing material, placing it in another context (see, for a similar argument—in the context of cooperation—Vathakou in this book). This material is made up of cognitive processing mechanisms determined by culture. In this context, the focal point is the humanist/post-humanist controversy on an appropriate term for people—as subject, as system, as project or as observer. Relativism, the dictum of relativity and the need to negotiate truths and values, is part of this axiom, which has been indisputable until now. As such, the new self-description holds true, at least to its ideal form as something ironically broken. As we have seen, this ‘contingency consciousness’, which allows the surrounding reality to be viewed under the aspect of other possibilities, finds its natural limit in the tragic irony of terror. If the terrible does not stay terrible, but contributes to a positive moment of community-building myth creation, then the judgement will be ambivalent. Irony becomes reflexive and points to a trans-subjective logic which stifles the romanticliberal ironicizing approach. This transition of the negative into positive is the epitome

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of irritation. Dealing with this is a task of high priority when it concerns working on the transformation of collective mentality at the stage of incompletely defined founding mythology. Effective processing of a traumatic event would demand a certain amount of reflection on the observer’s precarious status as a part of the tragedy. The new founding myth of the Western value community which tries to balance the new kind of danger, the susceptibility to disruption and the will to assert itself, must consider the attempt to instrumentalize the tragic event as an additional source of danger. It should be noted that the term instrumentalization is somewhat limited since it insinuates that intent is being guided by interests. An approach which attempts to transform a bad intention into a good intention, by using force or convincing arguments, assumes that changing negative into positive is at its core a moral problem. If it is a problem of perception theory, which takes the observer by surprise and predetermines him/her, then it is necessary to focus on the moments which are not arbitrary and, therefore, cannot be influenced. When this insight is taken seriously, it implies that the material for the composition of myths is predetermined. It is a new arrangement of the basic components of the ironically broken Western self-description. The controversies, discussed in the previous paragraphs about which of the various variations of liberal, tragic or cybernetic irony should be preferred, rival each other for the leading role in the concert of the diverse mentalities. The easy, relaxed atmosphere dominates the more difficult and serious. But it may find itself in a disadvantageous position, if a catastrophe is anticipated and it occurs repeatedly in each re-enactment by the culture of remembrance. Cybernetic irony’s answer to the tragedy of transforming negative into positive and, vice versa, is its offer to take the maxim of polyvalent logic to heart, ending the nasty game of bivalence which lures the observer into a dilemma in which any decision leads him/her into a trap. When the tragic event no longer appears negative, but as a moment of evolution brought on by fate, it must not be considered the people’s fault (see also Fuchs 2004). If people can only do what they can do, then there is no identifiable evil entwined around the founding myth (Sloterdijk 1999:18). Doubtlessly, that would be the solution, if the breakdown of differentiation between positive and negative were confined to morality and the practice of issuing accusations of guilt. However, as we have seen above, it is exactly this point which is not conclusive, because there are no generally binding criteria for ending the breakdown of differentiation. As soon as it is applied coherently, so that not only the difference between good and bad is blurred, but also the difference between spirit and material, made and grown, exploiter and exploited, victim and perpetrator, then the advantage to humanity is lost and the foundations will be laid for new injustice. The accepted founding myth of the modern liberal self-description and the rejected myth of the postmodern/post-humanist self-description should be challenged by an antimyth. This anti-myth should reflect the disadvantages of both mentalities and build a construct which has no need of scapegoats and does not glorify submission to fate. This anti-myth constructs stages in the culture of remembrance, which do not just remember the horrible initial event but also its aftermath, which has clung to the heals of 11 September as a series of horrors and which sees an enemy in everyone ‘who is not with us’ (George W.Bush). This political-military-industrial monster, made up of projective processing mechanisms as a response to the initial event, is exactly what

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Luhmann (1984:536) refers to as a conflict system. It reproduces itself by transforming all events into information which offers reasons for the continued and intensified animosity. The reproduction mechanisms of this system constantly filters the surrounding reality for new opportunities for conflict. Therein lies a tendency for escalation. The anti-myth’s culture of remembrance dominated by peace must learn more about the ways of reproducing expectations which successfully establish themselves as conflict systems. Only if a culture of expectation stabilizes, will the modern contingency consciousness yield to a solid structure of expectation. From now on, the worst case scenarios will dominate, which will put an end to the orientation debacle of pluralistic mass cultures. However, the psychosocial unburdening effect of accumulating animosity is not enough and any anti-myth, which denies this ventilation function its right to exist, must be able to offer a functional equivalent. This equivalent can only be an alternative force, which attracts everyone who trusts it. The emphasis of this force, which seems to be diametrically opposed to the freedom pathos of the Enlightenment, reflects on the monumental problem of the modern relativistic consciousness of contingency. This consciousness is unbearable and if it becomes permanent, will be undermined. People cannot coordinate their behaviour and actions if this consciousness takes over everything else. The fact of double contingency— the consciousness that others could think, act and feel other than is expected and that others encounter the same insecurity of consciousness (Luhmann 1984:148)—paralyzes every possible reaction. These exaggerated expectations etched in the self-description of an enlightened society practically provoke dissonant behaviour. In real life, people are not prepared for every imaginable imponderability because that would be completely unrealistic. Only imponderable events, calculated according to the probability factor, will be considered when it comes to action and reaction. From these considerations, it is possible to filter out the ingredients for a new antimyth directed against the force of animosity of the conflict system. If it should turn out to be true that individuals, as private people or as people acting in a certain function, cannot anticipate every eventuality in their expectations and in the resulting actions, then the unshakeable axiom of modern mentality, the consciousness of contingency, will be tempered. This consciousness seems to be a culturally prepared legitimacy construct, with the limitation that the scope of action can be denied by societal norms. In real life, two alternative anticipatory forms of behaviour dominate. Either the structures of expectations actualized by contact between people anticipate benevolence toward others or they anticipate malice. The third inclination of liberal irony, which claims to react with complete openness and flexibility when faced with ambivalences and imponderability, does not anticipate—as can be seen by the explanations of the protagonists of this mentality—the possibility of confrontation of existential threat, but only certain unkindly acts, which are within the framework of democratic rules. This tendency does not attain a state of tragic contingency and reveals itself to be less heroic than it pretends to be. Both of these anticipatory forms of behaviour, the anticipation of good intentions and the anticipation of bad intentions, release their own dynamic momentum, which in the long run has fixed attitudes of expectation and structures reality in the sense of selffulfilling prophecies. And when the expectations have become independent of the actor’s good and bad will, at least to some extent, they take on the characteristics of a system and

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become a dominant characteristic of individual and collective mentality. The conflict system character unfolding after 11 September 2001 draws the context for the expectation of anticipated maliciousness ‘of all those, who are not for us’ or for that part of the world’s population which does not want to be a part of the liberal-capitalist camp. Anticipated maliciousness is evident in opposition to an environment of undesirable information. It renders more sensitive the perception of events, which provides confirmation of the almighty thesis of an evil outside the Western value community. With the number of dead and wounded on both sides of the front line rising, the anticipation of facts changes to a naked empiricism of facts, which turns suspicions into massive threats. The smouldering anti-Americanism in Islamic countries is becoming a manifest anti-Americanism, which can no longer be reined in by the prohibition of demonstrations in these countries and will, most likely, increase further the number of suicide bombers. It lies in the dynamics of escalation of a conflict system that the occasions for conflict reach their highest potential and are carried out in increasingly brutal forms to the extent that the expectations do not remain expectations, but create their own facts specifically tailored to their needs. At this stage, the self-obsessed conflict system lets loose a raging insanity. An alternative is that the anticipation of good will, which can become reality in a similar manner and within the cycle of action and reaction, brings about events in the sense of a constant generation of new occasions for assuming good intentions. Using institutional and legal means to install these kinds of self-reproducing anticipatory expectations in a way which ensures their success, was the intention of Kant (1983), when he tried to design a model of eternal peace, which even included a people of the devil, in spite of its opposition. Mahatma Gandhi’s and Martin Luther King’s strategies of non-violence follow the analogous thought of positive anticipatory expectation, which revolves around itself and eventually becomes entrenched in its self-centredness of positive expectation, welding anticipated and realized reality into a single scenario. It is not only cynics and political realists who consider this peace system to be an illusion of eternal peace. Such a judgement, however, is only partially correct, which is exactly why a peacepromoting anti-myth cannot effectively reformulate a peace system. The same insight into the illusionary character of a long-term event of self-confirming positive escalation does not attest to the realistic character of the mentality which bets on the worst case. If the secret of adequately working through trauma is to be realized, the previously collected ingredients must be put together to make an effective brew, containing the intellectual power for an anti-myth (see Girard 1999). A peace alchemist is something very different from a peace illusionist. The former collects insights and puts them together according to the appropriate recipe, which differs fundamentally from the realistic and the pacifist versions. Both positions, which formulate diametric recommendations for anticipatory behaviour, point to meaning-diminishing plans, which only reflect one operative aspect. In other words, they describe nothing but a momentum which is put in motion by the anticipation of benevolence or malevolence. What they completely ignore is the fact that anticipatory behaviour can deal with social contingency more easily because it does not demand preparation for every eventuality. But this reduction of the complexity of reality does not do justice to the reality whose problem is

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social contingency, which will remain in tact even if it is ignored or denied. Expectations can be disappointed even if anticipatory behaviour has taken precautions for negative or positive expectations. A triform structure can be unearthed from this either-or construct, which does not declare the insights and experience of the two models to be irrelevant and unimportant but reassigns their priority. The anti-myth is like the original myth in that both are based on experiences, although the anti-myth does not favour conflict and does not place the peaceful and reconcilable on the same level as illusion. This choice alone, which accepts offers of conflict, retaliates and takes revenge, is inclined to overemphasize the aim of punishing the guilty. This is because it puts a dangerous catalyst in gear, which leads to venting anger on scapegoats. Both the force of vicious circles of malevolence and that of virtuous circles of benevolence are rooted in concrete historical experience. But peace does not come about from the choice of one force and the rejection of another, but is like an operation forging a narrow path connecting these two forces which cannot be left to themselves. The former cannot be left to itself because an escalation of violence can lead to a catastrophe, irresponsibly taking human life; the latter cannot be trusted because even self-fulfilling prophecies of friendly ambitions lead to a point of culmination which, as soon as a disappointing event occurs, breaks out of its virtuous circle and transforms the security of positive expectation into its opposite. An operation which actively counters these tendencies, i.e. that does not give in to the temptation to control the uncertain world through the security of positive and negative expectation, requires two sources. One source is nourished by the problem consciousness prepared by experiences with vicious circles. The other source is nourished by the motivation brought forth by peaceful thoughts, prepared by experience with the real existence of virtuous circles. This trilogy of operation, problem consciousness and motivation, replaces the duality of a simple action-reaction-event and provides cognitive material for a new image of international relations, which makes peace imaginable in a religiously, culturally and economically polarized and well-armed world society.

Notes 1 This logic adds the observer, who differentiates between a designating value and a reflecting value, to bivalent logic (true/false). 2 Irony is called the manner of communicating and behaving of a person who only seems to take statements of other people seriously, but negates consent through mimic, smiling and contradictory statements. Irony, as opposed to humour, is a form of paradox bent on destroying its object (see Müller and Halder 1972:135). The introduction of irony in the social sciences is an attempt to complete the work of romantic irony—the destruction of macro-contexts such as church, state and morality. 3 Sloterdijk (2000b) marked the transfer of a bivalent ontology to a polyvalent logic with the term ‘informed material’ which does not allow mind and body to be considered as different. This conformity does not result, as in Buddhism, in a hesitancy to intervene, but, quite the opposite, as a right to intervene in complex systems, including a person’s physical integrity 4 With the subject ‘Belief and Knowledge’, Jürgen Habermas placed terror attacks in the larger context of a battle of cultures in his acceptance speech for the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade.

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5 For information on the performative contradiction of social constructivism see Bauerlein (2001), who sees this primarily as an instrument of power, because scientific arguments are rarely differentiated from arguments of a personal nature. 6 Operative constructivism, as opposed to radical constructivism, sees the difference between it and subjective idealism less in its radicalism, but in the fact ‘that the reference to the subject is replaced by a reference to an empirically observed, operative closed, self-referenced system’. (Luhmann 1991b:68; 1990c).

11 Conclusion: Points of departure Mathias Albert

For most of IR as an academic field, as well as for peace and conflict research understood in a broader sense, modern systems theory in the Luhmannian tradition is still a stranger.1 A reader unsympathetic to the idea that studying international relations requires the frequent transgression of disciplinary boundaries may, of course, find that this is so for a good reason. According to common prejudice, modern systems theory is awkwardly complicated and not easy to understand. And it is indeed! Yet, it is so for the fairly good reason that a highly-complex world defies understanding in terms of simplistic world models and linear thought. Modern systems theory is one of the very few contributions in social science which can rightfully claim to have unearthed what could, in loose analogy to the natural sciences, be called a Newtonian worldview, in order to replace it with a modern, yet also more complex, body of theory. However, and notwithstanding the enthusiasm of some of its more devoted followers, it provides an open and dynamic body of theory opening many new research vistas in a number of disciplines. Nonetheless, it would be wrong to try and sell an engagement with modern systems theory to the IR scholar in terms of ‘adopting’ yet another theory foreign to the discipline in order to better understand the dynamics of contemporary world politics. Engaging with modern systems theory also, necessarily, changes not only the contours of what we look at in terms of ‘international relations’, but also how we do this. Put briefly, modern systems theory requires international relations to be embedded firmly in the framework of a functionally differentiated world society and thus requires reflection upon its evolution in terms of a theory of society (see, in overview, the contributions in Albert and Hilkermeier 2004). Thus, although engaging with a systems theoretical perspective leads one to question the boundaries as well as the core of one’s object of study and the methodologies that go along with it, this can only be welcomed in the field of IR, given its ontological and epistemological insecurity in the wake of globalization and the desperate need for conceptual accounts which embed a changed world of international relations in more comprehensive social scientific frameworks. Yet, and notwithstanding these general deliberations, there is a small but significant trend in the field of IR to note and sometimes import aspects and facets of modern systems theory into its analyses. Although the current volume partakes in that trend, it also goes one step further. Rather than merely add but one additional ‘traditional’ IR field of study to those scrutinized to date by systems theoretical and systems theoretically informed analyses, it does so by advancing a conceptual claim of no small proportions regarding systems theory itself—namely that conflicts are not just one or even a residual category within systems theory, but that, as Stephan Stetter puts it in the introductory chapter, ‘conflicts

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lie at the heart of systems theory’. This indeed is a far-reaching claim which has rarely been espoused in such a way and has only been developed systemically in a theoretical fashion in the recent work of Heinz Messmer (2003), who gives an abridged version of this work in his chapter, tailored to the purposes of this volume. However, regarding the issue of transdisciplinary synergies, the remarkable thing about the present volume is not only that rather than merely ‘import’ systems theory it also makes a contribution to systems theory itself. Its intellectual charm lies in its at least implicit suggestion that if conflicts lie at the heart of systems theory, then studies on conflict in general and on conflicts in international relations, in particular, have a significant contribution to make to a macro-theory of society which has only given them scant attention so far. What this suggests is that what this volume sets out to propose, namely a genuine two-way street between vastly different approaches and fields of study, is a rarity in academic discourse. In a more substantial sense, the conjoining of systems theory and conflict studies prompts IR students to rethink radically their notion of the role and function of conflict. Put a bit harshly, applying a systems theoretical vocabulary strips the analysis of conflict in international relations of any remaining vestiges of idealism, in favour of what is a radical constructivism as much as it is radically positivist-realist. Conflicts are analyzed as emerging from communication which goes on in myriads throughout society and constantly refers to, and builds on, each other—thus, in effect, constituting society. And as conflict is central to communication and thus also at least co-constitutive of society, a conflict-free situation plays no role in the systems theoretical conceptualization of society. Equally, such a perspective sheds an interesting light on the analysis of power relations in modern society, since these are also conceptualized as situations of asymmetric communication and thus seen as a source of a potential rejection of communication offers—arguably a conceptualization of power necessary in the overall systems theoretical framework. Such an understanding of conflict (and power), as such, says nothing whatsoever about the level and intensity of conflicts in society, nor does it have any normative implications for thinking about conflict. The main implication is analytical, as the ideal of a harmonious, conflict-free situation plays no role in the description and analysis of society, not even in the counterfactual assumption of an ideal speech situation in the Apel-Habermas-tradition. For modern systems theory, conflict is co-constitutive for society understood as the continuous continuation of communication. Yet it does not play a role in ‘integrating’ society as many traditional theories of conflict would have it, given that society is only ‘integrated’ through the fact of continuing communication—and thus can only be conceptualized as one society, namely world society. All the contributions to this volume, but particularly the chapters by Thorsten Bonacker and (the second chapter by) Stephan Stetter, point out that a systems theoretically informed perspective on conflicts in world society helps to situate and analyze them in a comprehensive fashion. In that sense, not much is gained by trying to understand existing and new conflicts and conflict patterns in international relations by looking at new kinds of actors involved in them. The major rift zone at which conflicts crystallize lies at the fault lines of world society’s functional differentiation. Different and often incompatible operating logics (or, in systems-speak: the self-referential, autopoietic character) of the functional systems of law, politics, economy etc. and their varying forms of inclusion and exclusion, whereby large parts of the world population

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can be excluded from many functional systems,2 provide ample opportunities for conflict systems to emerge and evolve. This does not mean that territorial conflicts would vanish because a segmentary differentiation, expressed territorially, continues to be an important form of the political system’s internal differentiation. Yet, within the political system, new forms of differentiation evolve as the grip of segmentary differentiation softens (the process variably described as ‘globalization’, the shift to a ‘post-Westphalian systems’ etc.) and conflicts emerge as a result of functional differentiation of world society in which the political system is only one among many functional systems. Thus, if one seeks to gain a conceptually rich, broad understanding of the dynamics and evolving maps of conflict in world society, it is not enough to focus on traditional and ‘new’ conflicts from varying angles. It is necessary to embed them in a broader theoretical account which can somehow account for the fault lines erupting in what is a global system in more than a metaphorical sense. That this has not been done in the majority of conflict studies in IR, is due, not least, to the fact that systemic differentiation has not been accorded a prominent role in accounting for the emergence of conflicts. Territorial boundaries, as expressions of the political system’s internal segmentary differentiation, remain heavily under-theorized in IR—at least when it comes to their status, not as results of and contested issues in conflicts but, as multifaceted symbolic expressions of various social and political conflict systems. A richer understanding of boundaries thus understood is emphasized in the chapter by Bonacker, where he also points out that borders constitutive for social order and symbolic borders are closely intertwined but cannot fully be reduced to each other. This accounts for much of the difficulty and challenge in studying the many ‘new’ boundaries in world society which form potential sites of conflict, yet remain territorially invisible, and thus, often off the screens of the conflict analyst in international relations and territorial states alike. As could be witnessed in the aftermath of 9/11 and the ensuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the ‘natural’ reaction of territorial states confronted with conflict situations that lack a ‘territorial address’, is to find one. It lies in the logic of the political system’s primacy of segmentary differentiation and organizations of national/territorial security are geared for and optimized towards dealing with territorial addresses. While it is their task to develop new modes of ‘addressing’ conflicts where the contested boundaries are non-territorial, the analyst’s aim in enlisting systems theory is to identify some of the many new boundaries in world society at which such conflicts could emerge.3 Of course, although systems theory can help to gain a comprehensive understanding of the roots and dynamics of conflict in world society, there exists no fully developed analysis which does just that. As mentioned before, the present volume only takes a first step and, in so doing, not only highlights what can be done using systems theory for the analysis of conflicts, but also for the gaps which remain to be filled. Thus, as also underlined by Klaus Schlichte’s chapter, the question of conflict in world society might be quite different from the question of war and, indeed, it is possible to join Schlichte in asserting that systems theory has barely dealt with war at all (but see Bonacker 2006b; Harste 2004). It can only be speculated here that this could be the case because largescale war poses a very basic question for systems theory in that it is among the very few conceivable events which could actually lead to a breakdown of self-referentiality in

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social systems and, thus, the degradation of society into an ensemble of many interaction systems, rather than an arrangement of interaction systems and more complex forms of social systems (i.e. functional systems and organizations). For all its pros and cons, what the present volume shows is that modern systems theory can be used productively even if it is not used in a strict and ‘dogmatic’ fashion. The present concluding remarks have tended to argue positively for the manifold uses of modern systems theory and rather neglected its shortcomings. Beyond shortcomings on a more philosophical plane, which could be argued about at length, these shortcomings seem to lie mainly in the fact that modern systems theory has been biased towards the Western industrialized world in its conceptualization of world society. It simply has not asked itself whether, and how, social and political exclusion and conflicts in more ‘remote’ parts can be reconciled with the notions of functional differentiation and systemic autopoiesis. This substantial shortcoming can only be noted here. It is the purpose of books such as the present one to remedy such shortcomings or in fact test whether they limit the range of the theory’s applicability. It is in this sense that the chapter by Eugenia Vathakou demonstrates that the vocabulary of modern systems theory can be used rather freely, in an interpretation which combines the work of Luhmann with other forms of complexity theory in order to demonstrate its usefulness for elucidating patterns and processes of change in specific conflict situations. After all, it might be a futile and counterproductive exercise to try and assign a specific disciplinary place to the present volume. It is as much IR/political science as it is sociology. What counts, is that it utilizes a very basic, yet conceptually rich understanding of conflicts and puts it to use in a thematic context framed by IR, giving the study of ‘conflict’ a solid base in social theory (or, more precisely: sociological theory), rather than in political or psychological theory. Few readers from the field of IR will have read this volume in the same way as they would have read any given book on anything ranging from IR theory to foreign policy analyses. Hopefully, they will emerge from reading it in a state between, on the one hand, positive puzzlement as to the degree to which rather traditional questions of IR can be addressed in a radically different way and, on the other hand, intellectual stimulation as to further engaging with some of the research vistas opened up by the individual chapters. If this is the case, this volume has achieved its main goal.

Notes 1 It needs to be highlighted that this may partly be due to the lack of English translations of Luhmann’s work; although there is no scarcity of publications by and on Luhmann in English, many of his major monographic works remain untranslated into English. 2 This means that, for example, although many people are ‘addressed’ by, and thus, included in, the economic system as consumers, they are, by and large, excluded, for example, from the political system if they do not have a right to vote. On the other hand, for example, the economic system of world society continues to operate even if it excludes the majority of people living on the planet. It is in this sense, that modern systems theory is a theory of a society which is not constituted by human beings, but by communication (which has led many critics to emphatically claim that the theory does not take human beings seriously). 3 This is what this volume sets out to do; it is a separate issue how systems theory also can help in understanding the evolution of conflict and in devising possible strategies for conflict resolution (see Diez, Stetter and Albert 2006).

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Index 9/11 11, 16, 145, 195–98, 207–8, 215 11 September 2001 see 9/11 aboriginal title 1, 149–50, 154, 163–64 addressability 22, 126, 129, 140–43 Al Quaeda 145 anarchy 127, 135, 137 antagonism 3, 25, 87, 107, 112, 176, 181–82 Arab-Middle East see Middle East asymmetry 72, 107, 168, 172, 175–77, 182, 193 autopoiesis 13–14, 61, 71–74, 78, 82, 92, 94, 134, 136, 177, 183, 187, 190, 214–15 blaming 106–7, 109–10 border conflict 14, 25, 49, 101–2, 115, 117–20 bordering 21–23, 25–27, 37, 43–48, 51–52, 112, 114–15, 119–20; see also debordering, rebordering borders passim; functional borders 32, 37, 43–46, 52; symbolic borders 23, 214; territorial borders 14, 27, 32, 34, 38, 43–45, 102, 114, 116–20, 130 butterfly effect 13, 71, 73–74 capitalism 5, 60–64, 67 centre/periphery 4, 64, 174–75, 182–83 citizenship 21, 25–28, 49, 131–33, 139 civil rights 138 civil society 13, 24, 70, 75, 78–79, 83–89, 91, 93, 189 civilization 1, 5, 191, 198–99 cobweb 131 colonialism 11, 50, 61, 118, 149, 151, 155, 162, 203 common law 15, 152–53, 158–61, 163–64 communication passim communicative action 129 community 2, 4, 6–8, 11, 22, 26–27, 31–32, 116, 119, 128, 159, 163, 195–96, 202–3, 206, 209; community-building 2, 206; community of states 169, 184 complexity 16, 58, 71–74, 79, 81, 85–86, 93–94, 117, 133, 139, 157, 170–71, 175, 193, 202 conflict passim; conflict development 101–2, 105–6, 108–9, 109, 115; conflict system 25, 34–35, 103, 112–13, 194, 207–9, 214; conflict theory 94, 101–3, 115, 117, 129; post-territorial conflict 11, 21–22, 32–35

Index

209

connectivity 3, 7, 78, 94, 172 constructivism 16, 126, 199–201, 204–5, 213 contradiction 4, 9, 14, 38, 62–63, 65, 87, 101, 103–15, 119–20, 129, 154, 159, 178, 195 control 22, 30, 115, 118, 141, 161 cooperation 13–14, 33, 51, 70–71, 74, 76–77, 79–86, 88–94, 104–5, 114–15, 114, 119, 137, 143, 193, 206 culture 6, 10, 16, 93, 118, 137, 143, 149– 50, 152, 158, 161, 173–74, 194–96, 198–203, 205–7 cybernetic irony 16, 194, 200–202, 206–7 debordering 10–11, 21–22, 27–34, 39 decolonialization 5, 50, 56, 169 democracy 5, 24, 50, 118, 126, 143, 178, 192, 198, 208 deterritorialization 21–22, 150, 157, 184 differentiation: functional 13–16, 21, 26, 33, 43, 46–47, 60, 68, 119–20, 139, 172–73, 175, 179, 181, 188, 214– 15; segmentary 26, 33, 37, 60, 120, 127, 137–38, 145, 214–15; territorial 44– 45, 130, 138 discourse theory 23, 74, 204 double contingency 72, 133–34, 144, 208 empire 5, 41, 173 enemy 78, 86–87, 136, 199; enemy-images 107 English School 2, 4–8, 125–27, 128, 130 Enlightenment 196, 203, 208 ethnic minority 50, 140 European constitution 31 European foreign and security policy 31 European Union (EU) 28, 32, 39, 48, 77–78, 81, 84–85, 89–90, 144, 192 evolution 3, 10, 16–17, 21, 25, 27–29, 38, 43, 53, 61, 67, 73, 86, 92, 94, 117, 133–34, 136–37, 150, 152, 156, 159, 162, 168–70, 172–92, 200–202, 207, 212 exclusion 3–4, 12, 22, 39, 42, 44, 47–51, 114, 150, 172, 174–75, 178, 188, 181, 214–15 failed states 143 functional borders see borders functional differentiation see differentiation fundamentalism 51, 181, 198, 201–2 genocide 50 global governance 132, 169, 175–76, 193 globalization 9–10, 17, 27, 43, 46, 172, 174–75, 177, 179, 182–83, 198, 205, 212, 214 Hamburg approach see grammar of war hegemony 24–25, 29, 34, 168, 176–79, 181–83, 199 hierarchy 40, 46, 67 human rights 11, 21–22, 26–35, 138, 142, 150, 169, 192, 196, 199 humanitarian aid 75–76, 78, 81–84, 86, 88 humanitarian intervention 11, 34, 64, 192

Index

210

identity 14, 24–25, 31–33, 49–50, 81, 86, 93, 110, 112–14, 114, 116, -17, 119, 138, 141, 143, 150, 163, 174, 176, 185, 198 inclusion 4, 21–23, 25–29, 31–32, 34, 43–44, 47–48, 50, 52, 113–14, 127, 135–36, 138–40, 149, 174, 188, 214 indigenous people 149–52, 162–63 inequality 3–6, 47–48, 170–73 interdependence 4, 119, 126, 131, 142–43 international courts 186, 199 international law 11, 15–16, 155, 168– 72, 167–7, 182–91, 193 international organizations 132, 185 international society 2, 4–7, 9, 26, 128, 130 inter-organization-systems (IOS) 15, 127, 135 irritation 15, 71, 73, 81, 91, 155, 186, 188, 206 isomporhism 3, 5–6, 8 jus ad bellum 169 jus in bello 169 just peace 16, 168–72, 176, 183, 186, 191, 1939/11 11, 16, 145, 195–98, 207–8, 215 lateral world systems 174, 177–79, 181, 183, 186 legal system 15, 32, 149–52, 156, 158, 163–64, 168, 178, 182–91, 193 legitimacy 26, 30, 32, 67, 108, 141–42, 146, 170, 192–93, 201, 203, 208 liberal irony 16–17, 194, 196–98, 200– 202, 208 liberalism 126 mass media 38, 40, 93, 184 media of communication 3, 6, 8 methodological nationalism 126, 145 Middle East 12, 38–40, 42–43, 48–49, 51–52 military 5, 34, 40, 56, 62–66, 87–88, 126– 27, 131, 141, 143, 157, 178, 182–83, 202, 204, 207 modern systems theory passim modernity 13, 24, 54, 63, 139, 141, 182, 191, 202 modernization 4, 12, 55, 63, 178 multinational corporations 132, 141–42, 185 nation state 11, 21, 26–27, 29–35, 115, 118, 139, 141 national constellation 11, 21, 26–27, 32–34 native title 15, 150–51, 154–56, 158–64 neo-realism 126, 128, 131, 137, 142–43, 145 networks 5, 73, 85, 94, 118 normative integration 11, 128, 134 norms 2, 6, 28–30, 67, 131, 137, 142–44, 146, 160, 163–64, 169–70, 184–85, 187, 189, 192, 208 operative constructivism 204 organization systems 127, 139 peace 16–17, 21, 31, 39, 51–52, 55–56, 60, 70, 81–82, 84, 91–93, 118–19, 140– 45, 168–72, 178, 192, 194–95, 197– 205, 207, 209–10, 212 persons 28, 30, 47, 49, 94, 131, 134–36, 140, 149, 154 perturbation 178, 186

Index

211

political community 22, 26–27 polycontextuality 52, 150, 154, 159, 163, 181 polyvalent logic 16, 199–200, 204–5, 207 postmodernism 126, 136, 174, 181, 190– 91, 205, 207 postnational constellation 11, 22, 26–27, 29, 31–33 post-Cold War see Cold War post-Westphalian order see Westphalian order power passim property 116, 149–51, 154–55, 158–63 reflexive legal theory 186 rebordering 11, 27, 31–34, 39 regime-building 185 regionalization 12, 37, 43–45, 47, 51–52, 174–77, 182 remembrance 206–7 risk 115, 117, 181, 188–90, 192, 198 sanctions 179–81 secularization 203 securitization 39, 51 security 28, 31, 39, 43–44, 50, 52, 66, 89, 116, 132, 141, 143, 168–70, 194, 210, 215 self-steering 173–74, 179, 185–86, 191 social domain 110–15, 119 social relationship 14, 103–7, 109–15, 114 sovereignty 15, 29, 32, 40, 64, 67, 115– 16, 139–43, 150–54, 157–59, 163–64, 191 state-society nexus 126 structural coupling 46–47, 72, 74, 79–82, 86, 89, 156, 161, 175, 177–78, 181, 184–86, 188 sub-Saharan Africa 12, 37–39, 42–43, 48– 52, 68 system/environment 72, 90, 137, 173, 176, 185 territorial borders see borders territoriality 4, 26, 31, 44, 67, 102, 115– 20, 153, 157, 184, 188 terrorism 11–12, 16, 33, 39, 51, 132, 145, 198, 200 Third World 56–57, 118 threat 39, 51–52, 54, 62, 107–11, 115, 117–19, 145, 150, 169–70, 174, 180, 195, 197–99, 201, 203, 208–9 tradition 13, 30, 61, 63, 65, 68, 160, 173, 177, 180–81, 186, 188, 195–96, 203–4, 214 tragic irony 16–17, 197, 199–202, 206 transnational law 168, 183–84 transnational public 32–33, 142 trauma 16, 194–96, 205–6, 209 United Nations (UN) 15, 30, 49, 56, 89, 132, 140–44, 168–69, 171, 185, 192 UN Security Council 141, 144, 168–69, 185 United States (US) 40, 57, 127, 132, 140–41, 145, 176, 179, 195 values 2, 6, 65, 113, 170–71, 195, 197, 199, 202, 204–6 violence 12–13, 16, 25, 50, 54–59, 61–68, 94, 107, 138, 156–58, 194, 197–99, 203, 205, 209–10

Index

212

war 10, 12–13, 32–33, 50–51, 54–61, 63– 66, 68, 84, 86, 132–33, 140–41, 143– 45, 169, 171, 198, 205, 215; Cold War 1, 11, 22, 29, 55, 136, 143, 178, 192; grammar of war 12–13, 55, 59–68; new wars 11, 33, 50, 145; ‘war on terror’ 12, 51, 200; World War II 5, 29, 54, 56, 118, 144, 171 West 16, 54, 57, 118, 136, 145, 177, 196, 202 Westphalian order 1, 10, 14, 26, 126–27, 138, 142–43, 145–46, 214 world polity 2, 4–1 world society passim world-systems 2, 4–5, 7–8